


Attorney-Client Privilege

by PaperAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Charlie Ships It, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Getting Back Together, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Sabriel Big Bang 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9774341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: There was a strong possibility getting blackout drunk on a Tuesday night wasn’t the brightest idea Gabriel had come up with...but it was the cans of spray paint and the bulk-sized container of chocolate sauce that did him in.  Oh, and the cops who’d been called.  Plus thelittlecharge of “resisting arrest,” tacked onto his “drunk and disorderly.”He could deal with all of that, really.  What he couldn’t deal with was facing his “court appointed attorney,” who was none other than Sam Winchester.Since it was this asshat who turned their three years of happy domestic bliss into a break up - in three months, flat.Gabriel had done a damn good job of making himself unreachable, and it was just his luck he was now cornered with a pleading, begging pair of puppy-eyes “wanting to set things right.”But there was no way it would be that easy.  This was downright entrapment, as far as Gabriel was concerned.  Not to mention an excellent fucking reason to never drink again.





	1. So Many Dicks

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my fantastic beta [cenedrariva](cenedrariva.tumblr.com), who not only took this fic to the next level, but is an amazing person and reminds me how awesome the fandom is for bringing random people together and leading to new friendships!
> 
> I was lucky that Miss [Liz](mooseinaboot.tumblr.com) chose my fic to create wonderful artwork for, which turned out PERFECT for this work and I couldn't be happier about! Millions upon millions of thanks go out to her <3
> 
> One more very, very special thank you goes to my [Fishy](http://whataboutthefish.tumblr.com/) who has quite honestly been my rock through some insanely rough, personally shitty times lately. I don't know what I'd do without her. I consider myself so goddamn lucky to have someone like her in my life. As a constant, solid, ride-or-die friend who's always there - whether it's to listen or talk me down from the ledge. Don't know what I'd do without you, babe! Love you to the moon and back <3
> 
> **Ann's Notes:** Another year, another Sabriel BB, another excuse to write long-ass Sabriel fic *rubs hands together mischievously* 
> 
> I had MASSIVE amounts of fun with this one. _Especially_ since the majority of my writing has been dark/plot-heavy and, well, heavy af in general. Getting back into the Rom-Com genre was a very welcome change!
> 
> Originally, this would have been the third and final Big Bang of the season. ...But since then, I've signed up for three more. Oops? _Good news_ for you Sabriel lovers (who, imma go out on a limb here, and assume that's you) mini-spoiler! One of the Bangs is Sabriel exclusive and the other is half/Destiel half Sabriel. Just to give you something to look forward to
> 
> I la la love you all! Happy reading!

  
  
“Novak!  You sure you don’t want that one phone call?”  The cop on duty asked once more as he leaned against the front of the cell.  Inside the drunk tank, the inmate kicked his legs back and forth.

“Nahhh,”  Gabriel drawled out with a heavy slur to his voice, continuing with a sing-song, “Don’t wanna fuck up anyone’s night.”

With a raised eyebrow, the man (Gabriel was pretty positive his name was Benny) returned, “Kinda like you fucked up Seraph Sweet Shop and Bakery?  What did that joint ever do to you?  Owner’s practically a damn _angel_ , it’s got that name for a reason.”

“Hey!  I helped out.  Thought it needed’a makeover!”  He stumbled to stand up, to emphasize his impassioned words, but instead tripped over his own feet, making a desperate grab for the cell bars to haul himself upward.  “Ya can’t tell me it didn’t look _much_ prettier when I redecorated!”

“Yeah.”  Benny snorted and rolled his eyes, “The magenta spray paint and busted windows were a _real_ nice touch.  Yer jus’ lucky someone caught you before you hopped yer happy ass inside.  Breaking and entering would’ve got you in a lot more trouble than all the other charges.  Drunk and disorderly.  Resisting arrest.”

Gabriel made a face and feigned shock when he gasped, “And just when I was going to cover the inside with glitter!”

The cop paused.  A frown scrunched his brown, giving the drunken man a once-over.  His curiosity got the best of him when he asked with intrigue, “Did you really have glitter?”

“You should know, didn’t it come in with my goods?”  He wiggled his eyebrows and swung himself away from the officer, “Now!  If there isn’t anything else!  Imma try and sleep off this hangover!”

“Good luck on that.  Your BAC’s’a point seventeen.”  He slapped his hands over the cold, steel rungs and internally cringed for the man.  “Try to aim for the toilet, yeah?”

“That pathetic excuse for a bowl?”  Gabriel hopped down to the bunk, nearly rolling off it with a yelp, then tried to right himself.  
  
He was only successful only after the _third_ attempt.

While it forced a laugh from Benny’s chest, Gabriel pointed a finger and snapped, “Enough outta you, chuckles!  I shoulda made it rain glitter on _yer_ ass!”

“Guess that answers my question ‘bout whether or not you actually had it.”  He couldn’t help the amused grin dancing across his features at the unruly, yet decently harmless man in front of him.  “Well, get some shut eye.  You’ll be meeting with your state-appointed attorney in the morning.”

There were some choice phrases grumbled behind him, dissolving into blabber until Gabriel began speaking to himself - but Benny tuned it out, leaving the room to clock out.  It had been a damn long time since he’d gotten called in to make an arrest quite like that.  Normally, Tuesday nights were uneventful.  They were spent patrolling the streets, looking for speeders and handing out the occasional ticket.  
  
Gabriel Novak had made this Tuesday anything but normal.

At first, they thought the 911 call had been a joke.  Some kid fucking around with them, because it all seemed like something a friend would make up on a dare.  An outrageous, creative dare to mess with the cops to earn some street cred with their group.  The call wasn’t something they imagined an actual _adult_ would be in the act of.  Regardless, Benny and his partner, Victor, were called to the scene to follow up because of protocol.

They could barely believe the tip-off had been _real_ when they arrived.

Gabriel Novak had been there, flanked by two women who immediately pulled off their stilettos at the sight of the police, turned tail, and took off sprinting like Olympic athletes.  However, Gabriel didn’t even blink, continuing his work to thoroughly trash and deface the most harmless little bakery in town.  And he did it with zeal, whistling while he worked.  He was armed to the gills with fluorescent colored spray paint, a hammer and a bulk-container of _chocolate syrup_.

Along with colorful profanities and expletives scrawled in surprisingly elegant cursive, were child-like drawings of flowers, unicorns and dicks.

 _So many dicks_.

Of all shapes and sizes, varying in details, erectness and whether or not they were circumcised.  Hell, some were blooming _out of_ the flowers, some penises had flower _crowns_ and some of the unicorns had cocks instead of the normal horns.  

The pair of cops were actually taken aback by the decoration in sheer disbelief, and it was only the sound of _shattering glass_ that made them finally spring into action.

Their culprit was on his way into the bakery, and as Benny lunged to disarm him, Gabriel had fought back _not_ with the hammer, but with the damn  _syrup_.  He’d already covered the walkway, most of the window, himself, and when the cops approached?  Victor was the unfortunate fatality of a gushing, carefully-aimed chocolate assault that temporarily blinded him.

While Gabriel had been cackling, Benny had hesitated for the briefest moment to watch his partner literally turn into a syrupy swamp-monster, fighting to clear it away from his eyes.  In that moment, the wild drunk had turned on _him_.  Luckily, Benny was faster, and wrestled the bottle away, sending spouts of sugary-goo spurting in every direction like a thick, chestnut-colored geyser.

Gabriel had pouted once disarmed, but surprised the cop once more when he pulled out the spray paint ( _just_ quickly _enough_ ) to mist a shoddy hot-pink dick on Benny’s uniform.    
  
Gabriel was too damn pleased with himself to give a flying fuck when they handcuffed him and threw him in the back of the squad car, yelling out the proclamation, “Victory is mine!”

The partners observed a moment of baffled silence, looking each other up and down at the damage to both their uniforms and bruised egos.  Benny opened the glove box to offer Victor a handful of crappy fast food napkins that did next to nothing in the way of clean-up, they only smeared the mess on his face further.  All the while the cab was filled with their assailant’s manic, hysterical laughter.

Needless to say, it was the most bizarre drunk and disorderly they’d had to date.  It was one for the record books.  No one even asked when they’d marched the stumbling man into the station and shoved his ass right into the drunk tank, because they had to deal with whatever the fuck kind of charges they’d stick him with later.  Right now, they had decided to let “Gabriel Novak” sleep it off and then figure out what the hell was even going on in the morning.

\------------------

When Gabriel woke up, the first thing that registered was how sticky he was.  And it wasn’t in the sexy way.  Then, the old, unforgiving coils of the shit, piss-poor excuse for a mattress they had in-

 _Oh, yeah._  He’d gotten himself arrested.

He slowly peeked one eye open and was relieved to see he was the only one in the drunk tank.  Although, he’d judge anyone who’d been shoved in here alongside him on a Tuesday night.  Because, seriously, what losers got themselves _that_ plastered on a Tuesday?

Right.   _He_ did.

Even though the urge to vomit was teasing at the back of his throat, he wouldn’t give these muttonheads the benefit of seeing him on his knees just yet.  He wasn’t in the _real_ slammer, just doing some time in limbo.  And he was pretty sure what he did last night - or at least what he’d be _convicted of_ doing last night - wouldn’t get him in enough trouble to do time.  Gabriel wasn’t anyone’s bitch.

He still had to hold back a groan, just because of how goddamn stupid he’d been.  But in all honesty it hadn’t been _entirely_ his fault. Without last night’s company, he’d probably just have gotten piss-ass drunk and wandered the city looking for anywhere still open selling pixy stix.  

Of course, those bitches ran off at the first sight of trouble.  Not Gabriel.  Nope.  He’d been downright giddy at the thought of being opposed, of getting caught, and going up against two cops.

He grimaced.  Hopefully he didn’t get in trouble for resisting arrest, or some bullshit.  Even though the words may be itching at the back of his mind, the end of last night was hella blurry and he was having difficulty remembering much beyond the backseat of the cruiser...

If he hadn’t harmed their fragile masculinity, they’d let it slide.  It was all in good fun, right?

At least, that’s what _Gabriel_ figured.

But the question begged…what now?

He eventually felt somewhat confident that he wouldn’t spew his guts.  Slowly he sat up, looking around the sterile, boring, empty room.  Immediately, his eyes darted around searching for a clock.  Just after nine.  Wow.  It was surprising that he’d been able to get any real sleep in here.  

It was depressing to realize he’d probably only managed to sleep because he was alone in the cell.  Alone, he didn’t have to look over his shoulder.  If anyone else had been trapped in here with him, he wouldn’t have gotten a wink, exhausted or not.  And if any shady cops had dropped by, he would have been snapped up and awake from that pathetic excuse for a bed on regrettable instinct alone.  It stood to reason that he’d been by himself in here the whole time.

Now, however, Gabriel didn’t want to be alone.  He wanted to get this over with, get things moving.  Hey, he never claimed to be patient by nature.

“Mi scusi!”  He called out, wincing as his rather loud voice bounced off the walls.

Okay, so apparently he had a throbbing headache and the sound of his own voice pained him.  This sucked ass.

Rather than shouting again, he chose to practice that rare skill, patience, and focused on listening carefully.

In the distance was the muffled clicking of heels, but they weren’t coming his way.  They weren’t leaving either.  In fact, they seemed to be stalling, repeating the same pattern of steps over and over.    
  
Pacing?    
  
Possibly waiting for something.  Hopefully it wasn’t for Gabriel to start bitching and moaning, because he was full well prepared to do that if he needed to.

Right before he opened his mouth to give it another go, the footsteps changed their direction and a door opened around the corner.  He waited (im)patiently, and eventually some chick with her red hair tied back wearing a pantsuit and a pair of kitten heels stood facing him, fumbling through a stack of folders.

She was awkward and flustered when she dug out one and finally fumbled, “Oh, hi, I’m Miss Bradbury.  So…they didn’t leave me with much about what happened last night.  And, uh, I don’t know what to do with you right now.”  

Gabriel balked at her statement as she walked over to the table and laid out the files, opening what he could only assume was his.  

“I think I’ve got pictures of the scene, it says you’re here for public intoxication, defacing private property, breaking- _hah_!  Oh my _Go_ -!  Oops.  Sorry-”  A hand flew up to her face, because she was giggling.  Which meant she’d found the photos of Gabriel’s masterpiece.

He couldn’t help but toss in―“I’m basically Picasso, I know.”

The woman literally couldn’t get her shit together and continued to laugh behind her hand, her face turning pink, until she physically turned her back to him.  

Gabriel watched her with piqued interest as she took a few deep breaths, put her hands on her hips and slowly turned around once more.  

Her bottom lip was between her teeth as she explained, “You didn’t use your one phone call, huh?”  Then she tilted her head to the side and mused, “You know, you could have given your cousin a heads up that you were dicking up his bakery.”

“Oh!  A _pun_!  I love it, Miss Bradbury!”  Gabriel clapped with enthusiasm, and grinned widely, “Is he pressing charges?”

“Well, when we notified him, he was _not_ happy.  He said ‘you’re an assbutt’ and you’re cleaning it up and paying for damages,” she seemed amused.  “But!  That will be after you’re tried for public intoxication and resisting arrest.”

“So they _were_ pussys, after all,” Gabriel growled through a hoarse throat and smacked his head against the bars, “C’mon, resisting arrest is part of being drunk!  It should be lumped in with it!”

“When you’re appointed your court ordered attorney, that’s something you two can discuss.”  She smiled and shook her head, “You’ve got style.  Not gonna lie, this is flippin’ _awesome_.  I know you’re not supposed to tell me anything, but can I have a hint as to why?  You and your cousin got a strange competition, because even though he flipped his lid, he…didn’t seem that shocked.”

“What’s your name?  You new at this?”  Gabriel asked, not because he was guessing, but because he already knew. _Everything_ about her screamed novice and it wasn’t a bad thing: he was just good at reading people.  Always had been.

“N-not that new.”  She looked mildly offended, but still offered forth, “Charlie.”  Which was a total amateur move, if he’d been a true bad guy.

Lucky for her, he wasn’t.  He was just a booze-loving, emotional jackass.

“It’s all good, Charlie.  My cousin and I are tight.  It was simply an idiotic sounds-like-a-great-idea-at-the-time, sorta thing.  I wanted to class up the joint.  Bakery would look so much better with some pink, right?  And _everyone_ loves unicorns.  And _I_ love cock.  It was an eclectic art piece, and the smash just happened on accident when the cops got there.  Impulsive move, totally my bad.  Didn’t mean for it to go that far, and I feel guilty about _that_ part.”

The woman took in his demeanor and words with a half-nod plus a casual, “I believe you.  I’ll put in a good word, see if I can wrangle you my fave attorney.”  She winked as she grabbed the files, explaining, “That way, you can make it up to your cousin faster, yeah?”

Gabriel snorted so loud, it bounced off the walls and came back into his ears, “Yeah, thanks.  I’d appreciate that.  Although, I doubt Cas’ll wanna see me that soon, orange ain’t a good color on me.”

“We’ll make it work.”  Charlie clucked her tongue at the picture on the way out and tossed over her shoulder, “Maybe I’ll call you when I need some redecorating at home.  You got skills!”

“If I’m not a hardened criminal by then!”

“Hey!  I’ve got my ways!”

He liked her.  Yes, Gabriel liked this greenhorn quite a bit.  Especially if she could make good on this promise of a decent defense attorney.  Sure, Gabriel knew people, he could always make some calls but right now….he just didn’t give a fuck.

As he slumped back to the crappy mattress, he sighed because…he really didn’t have anywhere better to be.  And that was the truth.

Maybe this was some strange, stupid punishment he’d given himself but he really didn’t care.  He was tired and bored and last night had been a blast.  Right up until he’d been thrown in this cell.

Maybe he was totally fine with the unknown, maybe he welcomed it, because it was better than anything that was happening in his shitty life right then and there.

He crossed his legs and wondered just how pissed Cas was.  Gabriel would make it up to him.  It had been a huge mistake, and he’d pay him back with interest.  Maybe he should use that phone call, tell him the hiding place of the key to his house.  Let him grab one of his debit cards and pull out the cash out of his checking account that he needed to make it right.

Or, he’d get this attorney to get in contact with him.

Or, even worse, if shit hit the fan, he could just do it if Cas came to visit him in the slammer.

Wouldn’t that be the joke to end all jokes?  Fuckin’ massive “joke’s on him,” right there.

Gabriel’s palms rose to cup his aching forehead and he blew out through his lips.  If only he had more whiskey right now.  Oh, and another bulk container of Hershey’s chocolate syrup.  That wouldn’t hurt, not one bit.

\-----------------

In the end, Gabriel decided that this Charlie chick was pretty damn cool.

She hooked him up in the best way a novice officer could, taking advantage of the fact that you could hold someone up to seventy-two hours in the drunk tank.  Even though he’d crossed the bridge from drunk to thoroughly hungover hours ago.  It was her way of beating the system and prolonging him getting booked into a _real_ jail cell at a _real_ prison.

Sure, he had new people to share his cell with (who were loud and rowdy and Gabriel wanted to punch their fucking faces in) but it was better than the jumpsuit and the inevitable prison yard.

He was bouncing his leg in anticipation, waiting for her so-called favorite attorney.  Finally, he caught a glimpse of her vibrant hair right after three the very same afternoon, with a giant smile plastered on her face.

“Okay, Novak!  He’s here, so you can follow me into the investigation room!”  Charlie’s voice was cheery as she unlocked the cell, and she appeared startled when one of the drunks looked like he was going to attempt to make a run for it.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, and a quick elbow to the chest landed the other inmate flat on his ass.

With a cheeky grin, he said, “Our little secret?”

She gulped comically and nodded.  “Uh, yeah.  Thanks.  Follow me?”

Her movements were suddenly jerky, like she was wary of not putting the cuffs on - but Gabriel was harmless.  He wasn’t going to jump the one person in his corner right now, she should have known that.

 _Although_ , with his pending charges (now that he thought about it) he wasn’t _exactly_ a cop’s best friend.  On paper, that is.  Hopefully she didn’t get into any shit because she hadn’t thrown on the handcuffs.  He casually crossed his arms behind his back for that reason alone.  It was another amateur move on her part, and he wanted to protect her any way he could.

A hallway later and he was led into an open room with a table and that was it.

She lingered in the doorway and explained, “He’ll be with you shortly.  Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” and shut the door behind her.

Gabriel flopped down onto one of the cheap chairs and kicked his legs up on the table, bored already.  But it wasn’t like it took him very long to get bored.  Ever since he’d entered this goddamn building, he was bored.  Before then, he was living it up on one of the most eventful nights he’d had in…God knows how long.

It was a slap in the face that he had to pay for it with a trip behind bars.

He barely glanced up when the door opened once more and he caught the figure of the inevitable defense attorney entering the room with a sigh.  But it wasn’t the _movement_ out of the corner of his eye that eventually got his attention, it was the _voice_.

“Hey, Gabriel.  Looks like you got yourself into some trouble, huh?”

Oh, _hell_ fucking _no_ , he knew that voice.  And there was _no fucking way_ that he would-

He whipped his head around, eyes narrowed, to see none other than Sam Winchester seated in front of him with his arms folded neatly on the table, the case docket sitting directly in front of him.  His eyes were boring holes into Gabriel’s head.

“Get out!” Gabriel snarled out the order.  “You are _not_ representing me, there is _no way_ in-”

“Everything’s already been processed, my signature’s on it.  It’s binding,” Sam stated evenly, trying to calm the beast with that stupid sympathetic, too-fucking-kind tone that he had.  “So just let me help.”

“You can help by leaving and getting me another attorney.”  He dropped his voice in pitch and rebounded his legs back to the floor, leaning in with what he hoped was a menacing glare.  “I don’t care how gung-ho you are, I didn’t sign _anything_!”

With a half-smirk, Sam admitted, “Well, _you_ might not have, but I got the case expedited, which required your signature.”  He shrugged with all the nonchalance in the world, “And I think we both know just how easily _I_ can sign _for_ you.”

“You little shithead.”

And Gabriel knew he was right.

After all, it wasn’t like they had dated for years, or anything (it was around three, to be exact).

Hell, the kid knew everything about him, so his copied (friggin _forged_ ) handwriting was the least of his worries.  The fact that he was in front of him, right now, when he’d been going out of his way to avoid him for the last few months ever since they broke up was bullshit!  It was _completely_ unfair, and Gabriel knew damn well there was nothing he could do about it.

“This…is entrapment!”  Gabriel finally came up with, burying his face in his hands, because he knew it was pointless.

“Not my fault you–” Sam flipped to the first page of the packet, “ _Wow_.  You did a number on Cas’ bakery.  And the cops on duty.  Drunk and disorderly isn’t normally a huge problem, but resisting arrest?  C’mon, Gabe.”

“I wasn’t resisting arrest, I was just inviting them to the party,” he grumbled against his palms and opened his fingers to peek through and see that, yes, Sam was still there.  He wasn’t a nightmare or hallucination that was going to go away.  “Why are you here?”

“I’m helping you keep your ass out of prison.”  He said it so easily as he flipped through the paperwork.

“No,” Gabriel’s voice was gaining momentum, “You know damn well I don’t want to see you.  So you saw my name, your grabby hands picked up my case, falsified my signature, decided you wanna play superhero and save the damsel in distress?”

Sam flicked absently at the edges of the photographs before he sighed.  Then he narrowed his eyes at Gabriel and admitted, “Yeah.  I know you’re avoiding me.  Not answering my calls and then changing your number told me as much.  I know I pissed you off, and if I can make things better, even just a little bit?  I’m gonna try.  So let me do this, let me do what I’m good at and get you out of this.”

“Yeah, yer  _real_ good at it,” he couldn’t help but sneer as he hunched back in the chair and more or less admitted defeat.  The comment made Sam flinch, but he brought out his notepad and pen.

“Okay,” Sam cleared his throat and began with, “so Cas isn’t pressing any charges.  That works in our favor.  We don’t have to worry about property damage.  Like I said, drunk and disorderly won’t be a problem but…tell me what happened with your version of ‘inviting them to the party?’  It says that…” his brow furrowed for a second as he read over the report.

In sheer disbelief, Sam looked up and asked in confusion, “You covered Detective Henriksen in chocolate syrup and spray painted a dick on Officer Lafitte?  Gabriel!  You’re lucky they didn’t charge you with assault!”

“Eh, sounded like a grand idea at the time.”  He shrugged and winked, “Mighty kind of them to kick it down to resisting arrest, huh?  Probably embarrassed my sloppy ass got the jump on ‘em.  ‘Sides, it‘s not like the murder weapon was lethal.  Probably hurt their manhood, more than anything.”

Gabriel snorted at the familiar bitchface Sam was wearing.

“See, that’s the problem, you never look at the _fun_ part of life!  Too serious.  At least Charlie was laughing her rear off over the report.  Get that bug outta yer ass.”  With a wiggle of eyebrows, he offered, “Or do you still need help?”

Sam had to take a minute to close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose, which Gabriel took in with utter delight.  After a deep, centering breath in, he turned to face the other man, attempting to keep his voice professional.  “Why did you do that to Cas’ bakery in the first place?”

“He’s not pressing charges,” Gabriel reminded him, almost too swiftly.  Almost defensively.  Because Sam didn’t need to know his reasoning behind it.  “So, Mr. Lawyer, shouldn’t we be concentrating on the real problems, here?  Are we making up a story?  Or are you just gonna work your magic, flash ‘em the puppy eyes and see if we can work out some kinda plea bargain?”

“Is that what you want?  A plea deal?” Sam echoed, a bit of disbelief coloring his tone.  “Because the Gabriel I know would want to take it to court and make a show of it.  He’d want to _fight_ and get off on all charges, rather than settle.”

“Oh, the jokes I could make out of _that_ , kid.  You’re making my job too easy,” he practically purred.  “I just want this to be over.  However we can wrap this up ASAP works for me.  And isn’t that with some kind of middle-ground?”

The attorney looked decently shocked at how readily Gabriel was prepared to roll over.  But the real point of the matter was that Gabriel hated being faced with Sam.  There was a reason he’d been avoiding him, after all, and having the man in front of him was doing him no favors.  It cut him even deeper when he opened his mouth again.

“Gabe…I don’t know how many times I have to say I’m sorry.  I don’t know how many ways to tell you I want to make it up to you.  And I get why you did it, _really_ , I do.  But it’s unfair that you-”

“Sam.”  There was a warning that cut him off mid-sentence and a patronizing drawl, “Keep it professional?”

Sam clenched his jaw and cleared his throat.  After a second of thought, Sam spoke again, his voice taking on something even more intimidating than Gabriel’s.

“So.  We’ll stay professional.  Let me do my job, because in my professional opinion, I _am_ going to get you out of these charges.  Your case has already been assigned a date and a judge.  I worked damn hard for that.  Now, let me see this through.”

He stood up so abruptly, papers in hand, that the chair nearly kicked off onto the back legs and toppled over.  When it returned to the ground, it bounced and created an ugly, dull thud.  Sam ignored it, looking down on him with a grimace.

“Don’t stir up anymore trouble just because you’re stuck with me.  I know you.  I know you can be dramatic and lash out.  Now–” he shook his head, squeezing his free hand into a fist at his side, “–now is not the time to do it.  Just – _please_.  You’ll be out soon.  Don’t be a jackass.”

He spun around and practically stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Gabriel was left with a churning gut and a cubic fuck-ton of mixed feelings.

This was _not_ supposed to happen.  Charlie’s “ _favorite defense attorney_ ” was not supposed to be his ex-boyfriend.  Not only was he avoiding Sam Winchester like the fucking plague, he didn’t want the man to see him here, like _this_ , of all fucking places.

Not to mention, the reason he’d defaced the bakery – little did Sam or Cas, or anyone know – had a small _something_ to do with Sam himself.

And – _goddammit!_  Seeing him face to face?

Just went to show he wasn’t over the kid.  Not by a long shot.  If he had a say, he’d be heading for the hills, relocating a few countries over because Sam had finally caught a whiff of his scent.

Now?  Gabriel couldn’t even physically run, because he was behind bars.  What were the fucking chances of that?

Everything about it was unfair.  If he’d known all those cherry bombs and graffiti would lead him to this?  He’d have pledged himself to a life of friggin sobriety that night, and every night after.

He was _so_ fucked.

\------------------

“Well, I gotta say, that’s a _classy_ move there, Sam,” Dean let out a low whistle in-between bites of a burger.  He’d agreed to meet his brother for dinner to talk over the ...situation.  “Not to mention creative.  If you can’t find your ex the normal way, just legally bind him to you while he’s in the slammer.  Nothin’ says _romance_ and ‘let’s get back together’ like a _set-up_.”

“It…wasn’t like that,” Sam was still frustrated and buzzing with distress from the encounter with Gabriel earlier.  “Okay.  It _was_ like that but–”

“Whatever’s happened s’got you in quite the tizzy.”  He snorted and took another obnoxious bite, chewing with his mouth open and talking through the beef.  “Obviously he didn’t jump back into your arms.”

Sam raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he continued to pick at the salad.  The bad taste in his mouth had all but destroyed his appetite, because for as much as he’d been thrilled to see Gabriel again, the circumstances had been less than ideal.  And, sure, maybe he’d pushed the man into a corner, but he knew he’d have to do it one way or another.

Gabriel was a _master_ at escaping.  It was impossible to find him, impossible to talk to him and if this was the only way…so be it.  He’d deal with the consequences later.

“No, but I’m hoping once I figure this out, he’ll give me a chance.  Not, like, another _chance_ , chance.  But at least hear me out.”  Sam sighed and looked at Dean with pleading eyes.  “Can you talk to Benny?  I know you two were close.  Get him to drop the resisting arrest charges?  Have him talk to Victor?  I can handle the other part, but– dude, depending on how the judge sees it, obstruction can carry some jail time.  And it wasn’t like he took off running, he was just acting like…Gabriel.”

With a laugh, Dean picked at his fries and swiped them through the pile of ketchup on the side of his plate.  “I’m sure Benny’ll be okay with it.  Victor might be a problem.  He’s had a bee in his bonnet ever since that Phillips bullshit.  And _you’re_ kind of the reason behind it.”

“I can’t be blamed for doing my job!”  Sam sounded downright offended, “Listen, the evidence spoke for itself, I–”

“Nah, Sammy, you _know_ you dolled him up like the victim and he’s back out on the streets because you’re workin’ the system.”  He gave his little brother a half-smile.  “I thought you wanted to be a lawyer for the people!  You were so pumped up about it, and now you’re helping criminals walk.”

“They didn’t have enough for their case against him...” Pathetically, that was all Sam could offer, even though he _knew_ Dean was right.  He dropped his fork and pushed away the plate to before admitting, “That’s what I wanted, Dean.  I _did_ want to be a lawyer for the people.  Then…everything got fucked up.  And I mean _everything_.”

“I think you need to do some soul-searching. Re-evaluate.”  It wasn’t delivered with a joking tone, it was honest-to-God advice.  He felt bad for Sam.  He grabbed the napkin and wiped away any stray condiments, patting the table to get his brother’s attention.  “Job hunt.  Get out of there.  You’re pissin’ cops off, and more than not, letting the bad guys out.  Truth is, you’re _too_ damn _good_ at your job.  And you’re gonna win. The system doesn’t always work.  Why do you think _I_ got out?”

That was true, too.

Dean used to be a cop, which was why he was such good friends with Benny and knew Victor.  But he’d seen too much shit, seen too many bad things happen to good people and knew (on a deeply personal level) just what he said: that the system didn’t work.

At one point, his brother had been on the ledge; half a second away from dispensing vigilante justice, when Dean realized…he just _couldn’t do it_ anymore.

So he took himself out of the picture.  Sure, as a cop he had been saving lives, but the bad side of that coin was too much.  Switching over to being a firefighter had been the best decision of his career; now he didn’t have to make life-or-death calls with criminals, and everything included _saving people_.  It suited him much better, not having to carry the weight of a badge.

Sam felt like a career change was in his future too, because this specific one was destroying more things than not.  He pressed his lips together as he thought for a second, before looking back up and meeting his brother’s gaze.

“What if…I got out?  What if I _did_ start shopping around?  You think Victor would go for it, then?”  He felt like he was taking a stab in the dark, but it was something he needed to do, with or without this case.

“You serious?” Dean asked instantly.  “’cause I’m all for that.”

“Think Victor will be?” Sam asked with something akin to hope.

“No harm in asking,” he shrugged and really examined his brother.  “You still got it bad for him, don’t you?”

“I thought you of all people would know that.”

“Huh,” Dean huffed out the noise then asked with curiosity, “You got a plan?”

“No.  Maybe pray he’ll listen to me?  Try and make things right?  I don’t know.”  He ran a hand through his hair and then leaned on his fist.  “I don’t know _what_ to do.  I mean, I found him.  That was the hard part.”

“Hell no,” his brother snorted and a grim smirk tugged on his features.  “You kidding?  The hard part would be getting his stubborn-ass back.  He’s crazy and unpredictable.  I mean, _why_ the _fuck_ did he even do that to _Cas_?  Cas is his best friends, not to mention family!  Maybe you broke him or something, dude.  He's gone batshit crazy.”

“Hey!  He was the one who ended things!”  Sam looked insulted by the accusation. “He–”

“Hurt your little girl heart, I know, I know,” Dean groaned and finished the rest of his beer.  “So I’ll talk to Benny.  Let ‘em know you’re turning over a new leaf.  But you better do it.  For real, you hear me?”

“I will.  I’m serious.”  The look on Sam’s face affirmed just how almost passionate he felt about it.  Whether the passion was about changing his job or Gabriel, Dean didn’t know.  But either way, he wasn’t bullshitting.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do.  And you” –Dean pointed a sharp finger and reached across the table to stab his brother in the shoulder– “need to seriously work on your seduction techniques.  Because your latest methods?  _Suck_.  Stockholm’s Syndrome ain’t gonna work on Gabe, trust me.  Plus, gross.”

Sam made a face at the mere concept, but quickly shrugged it off, because what mattered was that Dean said he’d talk to the cops.  And that meant that he’d get the job done, because his brother was a man of his word.  A part of Sam felt like he could breathe again, because that was going to be the hard part.

The judge?  He already had an appointment with, the next afternoon.

“Thanks for the advice.”  Sam decided to laugh it off and grabbed the bill when it came.  “I appreciate it, really.  And I’m not messing around.  I’ll talk to Meg about her firm, see if they’re looking for new faces around there.”

“Yeah, it’s a start,” Dean shrugged and appeared pensive, following through with an approving nod.  “She’s doing pretty damn well for herself these days, huh?  Never thought she’d even make it through law school, but good on her.”

“I’ll give her a shout.”

They said their goodbyes.  Sam headed home, now he knew the next step to focus on.  He had a few things to do before tomorrow.  He drafted an email to Meg, something professional enough that she could show her boss if she wanted to, but it still walked on the casual line to keep it friendly.  He’d send that in the morning because it was getting late.

However, tonight he needed to brainstorm.  He knew what he was going to discuss with the judge the next afternoon, so long as Dean pestered his friends.  Which Sam was kind of banking on, and he expected to receive a text about before tomorrow.

No, his brainstorming involved how he’d handle Gabriel.  Because he was bound and determined to make some kind of headway with him tomorrow.

Sam _needed_ to see him.  He _needed_ to start mending bridges in some way, and planned on relaying Dean’s good news to him in the morning.

He just didn’t know where to start and what the keywords to get through to him would be.

God, he needed to figure it out, because who knew when he’d have a golden opportunity like this again.

…entrapment, or not.  Details, right?


	2. ...Isn't That Illegal?

Gabriel was still relaxing in the drunk tank, watching idiots come and go, growing more and more irritated as time wore on.  Charlie would visit him from time to time and she didn’t understand why he was giving her the silence treatment.

It wasn’t until the fourth visit, and after one incarcerated fuckwad projectile-vomited all over the cell, that he finally broke.

She had gushed out an apology and said she had no idea, but then her own inquisitive nature got the best of her.  Charlie demanded a story while the janitorial staff was cleaning up the mess and the inmates were moved, handcuffed, into the hallway.

He didn’t give her much.  Said they were together, then they weren’t, and it was Gabriel’s choice to end it.  Said he didn’t want anything to do with Sam, and Charlie had put him right in the line of fire when he’d done everything he could to stay out of it.  Stay away from him.

But her innocent little brain couldn’t comprehend _why_ , because according to her, Sam shit rainbows and kittens.

Yeah, Gabriel thought that at one time, too.

When she came back to the cell with a sheepish look on her face…dammit, he could already read her like a fuckin’ book…he _knew_ what it meant.

And, he couldn’t fight it, it was probably against the law, anyway.

So he dutifully stood up and followed her lead when she dragged him back to the same interrogation room he’d been sitting in last time his world came crashing down around him.  At least this time, he had a little bit more of a warning.  More time to prepare himself as much as he mentally could, given the circumstances.

When Sam strolled in, it wasn’t with as much poise and confidence as he had before.  This time, he was more or less like a kicked puppy, like he was nervous to be around Gabriel.  And he figured the man damn well _should be_.

He waited, using the anxiety Sam seemed to be filled with to his advantage, and stared him down.  Not saying a word.  Putting the ball in his court.

Sam shifted in his seat for a second before he announced, “I got the resisting arrest charges dropped,” with a smile.  Was he hoping to appease Gabriel?

Instead, he replied with a blasé, “Whose dick did you have to suck to do that?”

His eyes widened just a little before the _real_ Sam, the Sam with a _backbone_ who Gabriel had fallen in love with snipped back, “Okay, _really_?  I’m helping you out, you don’t have to be an ass about everything!  No other attorney would go out of their way to clean up your mess like me, and all you’re doing is bitching and moaning.  Do you _want_ to serve hard time?”

That was a reaction Gabriel could work with.  

It was something he liked very, very much.

So he leaned in to the table and asked lewdly, “Depends on who’s hard, Sammy.”

The lawyer scoffed and mumbled, mostly to himself, “Why did I even bother?”

But Gabriel picked up on it.

“Yes.  Why did you bother?  Why is this so important to you?  You’ve pulled a hell of a lot of strings for someone who’s just not that into you.”

With that gauntlet thrown, Sam couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Really?  Because you used to be _quite_ into me.  And then, yeah, you took off, but I think the reason you took off was because you still care about me.  I think that you ran because if I was around, if I tried and did fix things?  You’d _let me_.”  Sam narrowed his eyes and hissed– “I don’t think you could handle my apology, because I _am_ truly sorry, and _I love you_ , and I’d do anything to get you back.  I don’t think that you’re strong enough to know that, and _not_ give us another chance.”

As much as Gabriel’s heart started beating double-time and the air was nearly sucked from his lungs, he fought to suck it back in because he would not give in like that.  He wouldn’t let Sam win, no way in hell.

“I think you’re being pretty damn cocky right now, kiddo.  And all this is based on even _pretending_ , for a goddamn minute, that you were _capable_ of changing.  That’s giving you the benefit of just playing with the concept that you’d _actually_ be able to fix anything.  Which is pretty crazy, and _that’s_ coming from a guy who attacked a cop with a bottle of chocolate.”  He didn’t back down.  If anything, he grabbed the edge of the table and lunged in closer.

For some reason, a stupid fucking grin wormed its way on Sam’s face, and then he proudly announced, “That means you still love me.”

Gabriel’s brow scrunched up with confusion because, dammit, _of course_ the part he failed to address was the part that Sam picked up on.  But he refused to lose.

“If by love, you mean would _totally_ have angry sex with you, then possibly, you brat.”

There was only the barest flicker of a warning, Sam’s eyes darting down to Gabriel’s lips, before he reached across the table and grappled for the back of his neck, sealing their mouths together.  Sam’s kiss was hot and desperate, all tongue and the clash of teeth.  It surprised the fuck out of the other man to the point that Gabriel couldn’t do much besides give in.

Because, _God_ , he wanted it too.

Sam had fistfuls of his hair as he licked inside Gabriel’s mouth and the man knew better than to reach back.  He didn’t know if they were being monitored or not, so he kept his hands on the table but nipped Sam’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.  It only spurred the lawyer on, and the moan in the back of his throat was so fucking _delicious_ , Gabriel could feel himself getting hard in his pants.

He was seconds away from saying fuck it, to closing the distance, to straddling Sam’s lap and kissing him for all he was worth when–

–there was a knock at the door.

Both men jerked away and flopped back to their seats, flushed and sweating, yet still eyeing each other with barely-contained hunger.  Sam looked gorgeous, lips swollen and cheeks pink, the desire in his eyes alive and desperate while his clothes were rumpled.  Gabriel knew he probably looked the same, if the way Sam was staring back was any indicator.

Prefacing her entrance was an intentionally loud coughing fit, followed by her actual form walking into the room...Charlie’s face was beet-red, but for a whole different reason.

Her lips were pursed with determination before she hissed out, “Dudes, you _can’t_ do that in here!”

“Do what?” Gabriel asked innocently, knowing from experience he was better at wearing a mask, collecting himself quicker and more efficiently than Sam could.

Charlie put her hands on her hips and looked annoyed.  “ _Really_?”

“Really, what?” Gabriel echoed and couldn’t help but tease, “Whatever happened to client confidentiality?  Where you _spying_ , Charlie?  Isn’t that illegal?”

She was all in a huff, not used to being on the receiving end of Gabriel‘s mischief, “It’s not like I could hear anything, I–!”

“That’s a shame,” he drew out and winked, “The _noises_ Sam makes are _absolutely_ –”

“Gabriel!” Both of them shouted in unison.

“Aww, that was cute!”  He chuckled and looked between two pairs of equally intense bitchfaces, then asked with a pout, “Does this mean I’m going back in the drunk tank?”

“Yes.”  Charlie made the ultimate decision, and looked at Sam uncomfortably, “Do you, uh, have the information you needed for the day.  Or whatever?”

“Y-yeah,” he mumbled out and got to his feet.  Then, after a second of deliberation he asked Charlie, “Just give us one more minute?”

“I’ll be... _monitoring_ you,” she warned and shuffled out of the room quickly.

Gabriel waited, watching with interest as Sam tried to gather his words.  He was obviously still affected by the impromptu make-out as he clumsily piled up his materials once more.  Yet, it wasn't because he was embarrassed, it was intriguing because he was _frustrated_ \- Sam wanted more, and Gabriel could tell from his body language.  Which was absolutely thrilling.

“I’m gonna remember that.” Sam shot him a significant look, that had Gabriel tilting his head.

“Remember what?” He inquired as the attorney walked towards the door.

With the handle in his hand, Sam easily explained, “When you’re arraigned.  I’ll remember that you’ll have angry sex with me,” and with a shark-like grin, slipped out the door.

Well, Gabriel had not seen _that_ coming on their visit today.  Not from a mile away.  And while he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, angry sex didn’t sound like a bad idea…

No, dammit, he was thinking with his dick again!

_Anything_ with Sam was a bad idea.  He was trying to cut him out, get away, and if it hadn’t been for this little slip-up, he would have, but now…

…he couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth.  His lips…the things he could do with his tongue…

Great.  Now he was gonna have a fuckin' _boner_ in the drunk tank.  He could only hope Sam made good on this promise, because incarceration was looking worse and worse from his end.  And that whole angry sex thing might not be the end of the world, after all.

\--------------------

To say that Sam was still a bit shaken from his early-morning encounter was a bit of an understatement.  He actually had to go home and take a cold shower to gather himself before he met with Judge Harvelle for their lunch get-together.

Now, his mind was a flurry of questions, all of which would go unanswered for so many reasons, and he didn’t know where to start.  All he knew was that kissing Gabriel felt right, it felt just as right now as it ever had, and he was glad the ass had pushed him to the point of breaking and acting out.

He never would have done it himself.  It was Gabriel who made him snap.

It always was.

Now, he couldn’t get him off the brain.

While he sat in the parking lot at the restaurant, he gave himself a quick once-over and straightened his tie before he sighed and pushed the car door open.  A honk to let him know the door was locked spurred his feet to move faster, because this meeting was _for_ Gabriel.  Hopefully, it would go well.  And if he played his cards right, it would begin to smooth things over in their bumpy relationship.

Bumpy was an understatement, at best.

He’d already reserved the table, the one with the most privacy that he always did, and when Judge Harvelle saw him approach she was standing up with a smile.

She wrapped her arms around him with a, “Good to see you, Sam!”

“It’s great to see you, too, Ellen,” he returned the warm hug easily before they both sat down.  “Sorry to invite you out here like this.  I know you hate business calls, but you’re really doing me a favor.”

“Yeah, yeah, Winchester,” she chuckled and swatted him in the arm as they both took their seats.  “I went ahead and ordered the usual for us.  Already know how you like your rabbit food.”

“You’re literally the best,” Sam said in earnest, dropping all of his professionalism, because the truth was?  Ellen was a close family friend.  Hell, she was family.  “My stomach was growling on the way here!”

“Figured, since you pushed the time back a little.  God knows I was starvin’, so I took a little initiative,” she winked and gestured over his shoulder, “Perfect timing!”

He was honestly salivating at their house salad and homemade, warm pita bread that was set in front of him and tried his hardest not to attack it like a savage.  Ellen always went for their burgers, even though they weren’t half as delicious as hers.  Then again, none held a candle to hers.

“So,” –she lifted the sandwich up and focused her attention on Sam– “spill about this case you’re working.  One that’s important enough to warrant this business call.  Better be something special.”

“Trust me,” Sam led in ruefully, “it _is_.”

Ellen gave him a look to tell him she was listening, and began to eat.  Sam knew that he had her undivided attention.

“It’s Gabriel.”  Those words made her eyes widen slightly, even though her mouth was full and she couldn’t speak.  Because _everyone_ knew Gabriel.  Everyone knew how head-over-heels he and Sam had been for one another for three years, _and_ how messy the break-up had been, as well as the fact he’d gone completely AWOL.  “Yeah, didn’t exactly plan on finding him like this, but I need to get him out of it.  So he originally had resisting arrest plus drunk and disorderly, but Dean talked his friends into dropping the first charge.”

He drizzled the dressing over his salad before he flashed Ellen his puppy eyes and all but pleaded, “I was hoping you could help me out and give him an acquittal.  Or just a fine.  Gabriel doesn't have _anything_ on his record besides maybe a parking ticket - so it wouldn't look rigged if you dropped it, being his first offense and all.  He was messing with Cas’ shop, so I’m thinking it was just something between family because he won’t tell me _anything_.  But…it’s not like I _expected_ him to tell me much.”

Sam’s eyes fell for a split second before he looked back up and found sympathy in Ellen’s.  “I just found him again.  I need to make things right.  And if all I can do is get him out of this?  It’s a start, you know?”

Ellen slowly set down her burger before she gave Sam one of those I-can-see-into-your-soul kind of glances.  With a huff and a shake of her head, she asked him, “Is this for him? Or for you?”

When he thought about it, Sam _knew_ he was being selfish.  He was trying to get back on Gabriel’s good side, he was trying everything he could, and knew the answer was, “Me.”

“Well, at least obstruction is out of the picture,” Ellen stated. “That may not be something I could easily overlook.  But just another drunk moseying around in public?  Not a big deal.  I’ll get your boy the acquittal.”

“Jesus, thank you!  I owe you one, seriously,” Sam gushed, his frame visibly melting from the tension as he picked up his fork.  “I’ve been doing some thinking, too.  About switching to a firm.”

“Mm, I think that’s a good idea,” she was quick to agree.  “You shouldn’t be wasting your time as a public defendant.  Why haven’t you done this earlier?”

“Because…” he hesitated and bought time by finally taking his first bite of lunch.  “I guess nothing bit me in the ass quite like the Phillips case.  Thought I could do some good, and I ended up making some mistakes.”

“More than some.”  Ellen’s words may have been musings, but they weren’t untrue.  “You need a reference, you got one in me.”

“Now you’re just pushing me further in your debt,” he teased lightly, but felt on top of the world in that moment.  “I appreciate it, though.  I sent Meg Masters an email earlier, waiting to hear back from her.”

“Shurley’s firm?  You’d do _damn_ good there.  But you already know that.”  She picked up her burger again, but not before saying, “Once I get back to the courthouse, I’ll file the paperwork and get your boy toy off with a warnin’.  But do you have a plan after that?”

“I really don’t.  I need to talk to him, I wanna set things right but I don’t know if he’ll listen.  You got a court-ordered mandate for that?”  Sam laughed humorlessly, shrugging his shoulders.

“You even know where that guy’s been?  You said you couldn’t find him, he basically went underground.  Or so I heard.”

“From Dean, I’m guessing.”  Sam already knew, his brother was loose-lipped and chatty.  He’d probably spilled the beans to Jo, who, in turn, told her mom.  “I have no idea.  But…” –there was an idea that just popped up– “his new number…they had to have taken it down with his information when he was booked.  Maybe his new address…”

“Why, Sam Winchester!  Look at you, evil mastermind,” her grin turned sharp and she chuckled.  “You shouldn’t be tellin’ this to me, though.  Kinda towing the line on what’s legal.”

“As his lawyer, I have access to his documents, though.”  A plan was forming, and he was gaining momentum.  “If I can’t meet with him on his terms?  I’ll drag him back in, kicking and screaming.”

“Heh, knew you had it in you,” she shook her head and gestured to his plate.  “Now, eat up.  I’m sure you’re gonna wanna be there when he’s released.  Give him the good news.”

“Right,” Sam lit up like a damn Christmas tree and heartily dug in.

At least he could do _something_ right.

\------------------

Before Sam could head back to the station, he was surprised to get a call from Meg so quickly, considering he’d only sent her an email a few hours prior.  It was actually just after he finished his lunch with Ellen and he was in his car, about to leave the restaurant.

When he answered, she greeted him with a strangely even, “Hello, Sammy.  Long time, no talk.  I was simply intrigued by your message.”

“Hey, Meg.  It’s been a while.”  He held the keys in his palm, rather than sticking them into the ignition.  “What were your thoughts about my proposal?  Think you guys have room for one more on the team?”

“Huh.”  She paused for a suspiciously long time, before she asked, “That’s honestly what it was about?  Whatcha say to stopping in, really quick.”

Sam had to look at the time and do the math in his head, dismissing the first odd question, because he needed to move.  He estimated how quickly Ellen would be getting back to the courthouse, and how fast the order would be sent down that they’d release Gabriel.  Sam was worried the man would be in the wind again in no time, but sometimes these things took a while to process so-

“Yeah, I can do that.”  He went ahead and started the engine, “I’m around fifteen away.  So I’ll see you soon?”

“Sounds good, cowboy,” she all but purred, and just as quickly hung up.

It was a strange, brief conversation that confused Sam, but this was his chance.  Even though it was happening _much_ sooner than he thought, he’d jump on it because he wanted it.  He peeled out of the parking lot and headed towards the firm.

\--------------

Meg Master was poised, confident and…in a word, unforgiving.

Sam knew her through a paid (because Meg wouldn’t get out of bed for anything less) internship they’d worked together, right out of law school.  They kept up through networking, and he’d been shocked to find her at the Shurley Law Firm.  Not because she wasn’t good enough, no, she had talent in spades.

More like…Meg was morally _ambiguous_.

And Shurley’s?  They were known for taking on a pro-bono case, now and again, and worked with many local charities.  Hell, if Sam hadn’t thought he could make a difference defending those caught in a tight situation at the courthouse, he would have _immediately_ made a beeline to Shurley’s.  But he’d made the wrong choice, in more than one way.

God, he’d been dead wrong in this decision.

So when he asked the front desk for Meg’s office, he hadn’t been expecting a massive room with a view, the woman’s personal style laid out, framed in artwork on the walls, and a sleek, deep mahogany desk.

But there she was, waiting for him, with a cat-that-caught-the-canary vibe and a razor-sharp grin.

“Winchester!  Glad you could hop on by and see little old me.  Please, sit,” she gestured in front of her from where she was lounging in her own oversize chair.  Yet, she seemed to take up the entire space.  “So you tired of being the counties’ bitch yet?”

“You could say that again.”  Sam admitted, his shoulders hunched.  “Thank you, for seeing me.  I admit, you caught me off guard.  I thought there’d be a wait list a mile long.  But you think they might want me here?”

“What can I say?  I’ve got a little pull in the company.”  She was nonchalantly showing off, because if Sam did the math right, she’d been here just under a year.

But the office?  All that surrounded him implied she’d already worked her way up the ladder, and _damn fast_.

“To be honest, I’ve been done with them for a while.  And…I’ve had my eye on this firm, since day one.  Well,” Sam laughed lightly, “you know me.  You know this is the type of work that I’d much rather be doing.”

Meg cast an eye over Sam for a second and looked a little hesitant.  Not like she didn’t believe his words, but as though she was waiting for Sam to continue.  But Sam had said his piece.  A short, awkward silence fell between them, broken as Meg sprang up from her chair.

“All right,” she waved her hand while she moved to the door.  “Let’s meet the boss man!”

“Wait, _what_?!”  Sam jerked back, but scrambled to follow her.  “Already?!”

“Well, I thought you’d wanna get this show on the road?  Or did I misread your intentions?”  She obviously loved the reaction she garnered, swaying her hips in a proud swagger while she led the way.  “He’ll love you.  I already know it.  Besides, I already forwarded your LinkedIn profile, so he’s expecting an audience.”

“Holy shit.”  Sam’s mind was moving a mile a minute, because it had been a damn long time since he’d been interviewed, and he hadn’t prepared anything!

Let alone for the President of the damn law firm!  Normally, you started at the bottom of the food chain and were hired in at the lower levels.  You _never_ interviewed right to the fucking top.

Meg’s laughter was the background white noise as they shuffled into the elevator and she pressed the top button.  Sam only had a few seconds, minutes, at most, to get his shit together before one of the potentially most important moments of his life.

How did this happen?!

\--------------

Sam felt as though he’d blacked out, and he woke back up in the chair facing Meg in her office again, white-knuckling the arm rest and breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.   She looked amused as she leaned on her palm and grinned with a, “Ya did good, kid.”

He wiped his hand along his sweating brow, barely able to remember what happened, still in fight-or-flight mode.  The words “You’ve got the job!” were still ringing in his ears, too good to be true.

But they were.

_Holy crap._

But then he had to ask, “Meg, _no one_ gets an interview that easily.   _How_ did you do it?”

Then, for the first time nearly since he met her, Meg Masters looked downright sheepish.  She nervously glanced around her desk before she finally came clean.  “Well, it’s not the fact that I did it.  It was the fact that I felt like I owed you.  Or something.”

That didn’t make any sense to Sam.  But the way Meg on the defensive was one for the record books and he needed to take advantage of it while he could.  

He scooted his chair forward and made very direct eye contact, slowly pressing, “Why do you owe me?”

Sure, she crumbled under the pressure, but that didn’t erase the annoyance from her expression when she finally admitted, “For getting Gabriel out of trouble.  Yeah, yeah, he _finally_ used his one phone call and got a hold of me.  Lots of bitching.  Jesus fucking Christ, can he _bitch_.”  Meg pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, “The night he got arrested?  I was with him.  Well, Ruby and I were with him.  We got blackout drunk, and when we saw the cop cars?  We turned tail and ran.  Thought he would too, but the little ass just _loves_ to make a scene…”

“Wait,” Sam squinted, unsure if he heard her right at first and then demanded, “You, Gabe _and_ Ruby were wrecking Cas’ bakery?   _Why_?”

“He never told you?” Meg asked with a raised brow, but then shook her head with a rueful groan and then continued,  “No.  No, I guess he wouldn’t.”

“But _you_ know.”  He pointed a finger at her, his voice increasing in intensity because now that he had a chance at an _answer_?  He was _damn well_ going to find out.  “And you’re gonna tell me.  I just met with Judge Harvelle.  He’s getting out of all charges.  So your little Tuesday night boozefest is going away.  I need to know what the fuck you guys were thinking!  Like you said, you owe me!”

She kept shifting in her chair, thoroughly uncomfortable, meeting his eyes, dropping her gaze, rinse and repeat.  Every time she began, she cut herself off, only to try and start again.  Sam couldn’t figure out why.  Did he and Cas have a fight?  If it was family problems, that’s all she had to say.  If it was something that-

“We were having fuckin’ girl time.  And…started talking about _you_.”

Just when he thought he couldn’t be caught off guard again, she proved him wrong.

“What?”  His voice reflected that exact candid confusion,  “What does _that_ have to do with-”

“He was getting nostalgic, all right?  And then we were _all_ getting straight-up pissed off.  Don’t you remember how you guys first started dating?”  Meg challenged, because she had become one of Gabriel’s best friends during their relationship.  After the break-up, she’d remained on decent terms with Sam, but when it came down to it?  She was very obviously in Gabriel’s corner.   _Especially_ when intoxicated.

“When I was studying…I’d always get coffee at Cas’ bakery.  And he’d come every afternoon and help.”  Sam remembered fondly with a small smile, recalling, “That’s actually where we met—  Wait!  Are you saying he did this because of _me_?!”

“He wanted to burn the pages, starting from the beginning,” Meg shrugged with a helpless expression, “Hey, it was Ruby’s idea!  And we were all fucked up, seven ways ‘til Sunday!  Like, to the point we didn’t even think of Cas!”  Then she added in almost as an afterthought with an awkward chuckle,  “We were just…thinking about how much we hated you?”

“Which is why you helped me out.  Because I helped Gabe out of his charges and you feel bad about fucking Cas over,” Sam made for it to sound angry, but in truth, he felt helpless.  Just to know that Gabriel had been hurting _that_ badly.  Enough to try and rewrite their memories, to defile their favourite coffee shop, tear up said book of their entire relationship: from chapter one.

“Yeah...sums it up.”  Meg groaned out dramatically, “I’m sorry, okay?  It was just…he was having a real rough night.  He gets those sometimes.  So Ruby and I came to cheer him up, take him out, and it took a bad turn, all right?”

“No, it’s my fault.”  Sam dropped his face into his palms until he realized, “Fuck!  I _have_ to go!  They’re going to be releasing him, and I _need_ to see him before he takes off again!”  He jumped to his feet, pivoting to the door, but before he could take a step, Meg lunged out to grab his wrist.

“Sam!”  There was a desperate note in her tone, “You’re making the right call!  I mean, it’s obvious why you’re changing jobs.  I know you still love him, and for what it’s worth?  Do you _really_ think he’d be acting out this way if he didn’t still care about you?”

Those words made him all but freeze.  Haltingly, he turned to look over his shoulder and meet Meg’s sincere gaze.

“God, I hope so.”  He cleared his throat, “Thank you.  For helping me out with the job.  I… _am_ making those changes.  I just hope it’s not too late.”

“Get your ass over there, Moose,” she encouraged and tacked on, “See you on Monday!”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

\--------------------

Gabriel was pacing with his heart in his throat for about two million and a half reasons, but the one that was at the forefront of his mind was that his seventy-two hours was just about up.

While he remained stagnant in this very cell, the drunks had been filing in and out of the place like a Starbucks - but Charlie’s loophole remained.  In fact, she’d been peeking in and out, periodically.  She had yet to approach again though, and he wondered if it was because of the awkward scene she’d witnessed last time.

Well, if she was _that_ sensitive about some hot man-on-man making out, it served her right.

…that happened to be one of the _other_ reasons that Gabriel was pacing.

Because, yeah, he loved pushing Sam’s buttons, always had - but apparently, he’d slammed his fist down on the Red One.  The one you had to break the glass first (in case of emergency) to access.  And, _boy_ , had Gabriel gone and shattered that glass.  He'd been doing that a lot lately.

He was pissed off at himself, not because of making the kid lose his cool: that part was magnificent.  The part that he was berating himself over was how much he _loved it_ , how much he never wanted the damn moment to end, and how much he wished Sam would come back for more…

But, fuck, it was Gabriel who’d ended things.  He wasn’t allowed to show weakness or come back over one heated moment.  No matter how perfect or absolutely delicious it had been.

No, he was much _stronger_ than that.  He had to _stay_ strong.  Not allow Sam to get under his skin.  No matter how much he apologized, no matter how much he’d promise to change.

The fucking kicker was the fact that Sam still loved him, and in the process…he deduced the feeling was mutual.

Oh, and the promise of angry sex didn’t help, nope, not one bit.

Gabriel had to reach out and grab the bars for support, to stop his restless feet, to get a hold of himself.  His head hung in defeat as his resolve was crumbling before him.  He honestly didn’t know what would happen when he saw Sam.  If he’d have enough time to build back up the barrier and—

“Hey, Gabe,” a voice that was surprisingly close piped up, causing him to flinch.  An overly-cheerful Charlie was holding the set of keys when she announced, “I told you I’d get you the best defense attorney, right?”  She unlocked the door, spinning the keys on her finger.  “You’re free to go.”

He blinked openly and looked between the woman, the exit, and Charlie again.  “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.  Sam got you out.  I’ve got all your personal belonging at the front, if you wanna follow me,” she gestured for him to come with her so she could lock up behind him.

But that…didn’t make sense.

Why wasn’t Sam here to deliver the news himself?  There was no way Gabriel would get that lucky.  Still, he trailed behind her, on guard like he was waiting for the man to jump out behind one of the corners, shouting, “Surprise!” at any moment.

When Charlie handed him all his crap in a bag, she seemed to read his mind saying, “Sam is on his way.  But the time limit is up and I can’t hold you anymore.  I think it’d be _really_ nice of you to stay and wait for him.  Seeing all he did for you.  But...I can’t make you.”

It all made sense, now, at least.  And Gabriel was left with a choice.

She could see it on his face, apparently.  Her eyes were sharp, scrutinizing, as she waited for his response.  Gabriel was more or less in crisis-mode, left with a weighted decision, so he did the only thing he could do in this situation.

“Tell him thanks,” he patted Charlie on the shoulder and made a beeline for his escape path, trying to ignore the blatant disappointment that sunk into her features.  She obviously didn’t know any of the details, but it was awesome she’d given him the choice.  “You, too, Red!  Nice working with you!”

He _couldn’t_ face Sam.  He didn’t _trust himself._

Gabriel also couldn’t trust Sam to change, so he booked it and pulled his phone out of the massive zip-lock looking bag as he made a sharp turn down the sidewalk.  He needed to get out of there before the man stormed the fuckin’ castle, looking for his “damsel.”

Gabriel refused to play the part or wait around for nothing but temptation.

Once the phone turned on, he pushed in his contacts and waited as it rang.

“Hey, need a lift,” he spoke as soon as they picked up, “just got outta the slammer, but pretty sure you knew that.  You owe me.  Get your ass over here.”

\-----------------

There was no way to call it anything but desperation, as Sam quite literally _sprinted_ at top speed back into the station.

Charlie was waiting for him at the front desk and her back was turned, but when she heard the rushed footsteps and turned around…

Reality came crashing down, with the single sorrowful look she sent his way.

“Fuck.”  The curse slipped from his lips and he knew it was too late.  That he’d missed Gabriel because of the meeting, because of the elongated time he’d spent with Meg, because of—

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Charlie said with sympathy, and he decidedly hated it.  “I couldn’t hold him in the drunk tank any longer, and I’d already heard from the judge.  I tried to hold out, I tried-”

“No, no, Charlie, you’re fine.  It was my fault,”  he sighed, feeling at a loss for what to do now.  “You did your job.  And…thank you.  For getting in contact with me and making me take the case.  Even though you didn’t know what you were doing for me at the time.”

“Hah!”  She actually laughed at that.  “Yep.  Whoo, had no idea what I was in for on _that_ one.  But, destiny, right?”

“Something like that.  Or I can hope.”

“What now?”  Charlie was curiously prying in a way that was _meant_ to be supportive, yet sometimes it bordered on nosy.

Sam wasn’t sure which of the two it was this time.

But when she continued to gush, “Obviously, that was a _killer_ reunion and you’ve got _crazy_ UST–” he knew it was the latter.

So he cut her off with, “We had a bad breakup.  It was my fault, he was right to leave me.  I’ve got some work to do on myself, but…at least I know he’s still here.  That he hasn’t fled the country.”  Sam flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  “Maybe I can talk him into giving me another chance.   _God_ , I hope he will.”

Charlie swooned at Sam’s words, and latched onto his arm in her own show of affection.  “He’s gotta, Sam.  I _know_ he will.”

“Heh, if only it was that easy.”


	3. Three Happy Years, Three Horrible Months, Three Heartbreaking Days

Soon as Gabriel got out of the slammer, he made a donation to his cousin to fix the broken glass of the storefront he’d smashed to pieces with the hammer.

To be totally honest?  He had no fucking idea _where_ he’d gotten it, to begin with.  Maybe left over at a construction site they'd flounced by after last call?  Who the fuck knew?  And, in the drunken haze, Gabriel wasn’t even sure if he’d ever intended to _use it_ or was just hanging onto it because he found it…

Moral of the story, there was no one he felt worse for than Castiel.

He’d suffered the brunt of Gabriel’s stupid lashing out, and for what reason?  Some kind of idiotic cathartic work-out-your-feelings bullshit?

It wasn’t until a day later that he’d come slinking to the bakery with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs, to find Cas on the sidewalk, still attempting to make the front of the bakery presentable.  

He barely cast a glower at his cousin before asking, while scraping at the lingering graffiti, “Are you here to help or whine?”

Typical Cas.  Right to the point.

“I can help,” Gabriel offered instantly.  “What do you need me to do?”

“The last few days I managed to clean up the inside,” he explained, voice eerily calm.  “The shattered pieces were a mess.  And installing the new glass panel and decal took up a bit of my time.  And if you _hadn’t_ noticed,” his voice took on a growl, stepping away from the other glass panel, the one Gabriel _hadn’t_ smashed to smithereens, “ _others_ followed your example and added graffiti of their own.”

It was only then that Gabriel took a step back and really looked at what Cas was working on.  While he’d managed to scrape and wash away a little more than half of the second wall, what remained wasn’t merely Gabriel’s mural of dicks, expletives, flowers and unicorns.  There were taggings from kids, stick figures, and impossibly _more dicks_.  There was barely any window left at all, hidden under layer after layer of paint.

That was when Cas finally turned towards him and glared something fierce.

“God, I am so, _so_ fucking sorry,” Gabriel blurted and rushed to his side, grabbing his shoulder and continuing, “I know being drunk is no excuse, and after all you’ve done for me, you’re the _last_ person who should have gotten caught in the crossfire, I-”

Castiel just shrugged off his hand and sighed,  “Meg called and explained.  Although I’m quite irritated, when drinking with _those_ two women I understand that anyone is capable of anything.  I’m simply relieved no one was murdered.”

Gabriel internally cursed then huffed, “It wasn’t her fucking business to tell you, goddammit!  She-”

“Gabriel,” he cut him off with a biting edge and narrowed eyes.  “I understand.  Now, you can make up for it,” Cas gestured for the tools and his tone changed to become something more casual (Gabriel had no fucking idea how he did it) as he explained, “Every day I can’t open is a day I’m losing money.  Dean helped me yesterday, but today I’m on my own.  Please, this will go by twice as fast with your assistance.”

“You, are a fucking saint,” he actually chuckled and shook his head.  “We’ll have this baby up and running tomorrow morning!”

Gabriel rolled up his sleeves and flashed a confident smile at his cousin, who simply rolled his eyes and grinned back.

It was true; Cas _was_ a saint.  Or, rather, an angel, as said bakery implied.

When Gabriel had broken up with Sam, it had been Cas who immediately demanded he stayed in his guestroom.  He’d been his shoulder to cry on, and inevitably the one who got Gabriel back on his feet and rebuilt him back into a normal, functioning human being.

He’d also lied through his teeth when Sam called, asking if Gabriel was there.  Or came up with places to hide Gabriel and his things when Sam physically _showed up_ at Castiel’s house, demanding to see if the man was there.  He understood how devastated his cousin was and protected him, much like Gabriel had done when Cas was just a kid.

When Cas’ father passed away, the kid was only twelve.  And his mother was a goddamn _terror_.  Despite their numbers, the Novak family had always been close – like, _ridiculously_ close – and Gabriel had made the executive decision to snatch the kid up before mommy could do any lasting damage.  Because Cas?  Wasn’t hers.  He was born out of an affair, and she treated him like such.

Gabriel had witnessed it, first hand, through each and every single holiday gathering he'd attended.  How she looked down her nose at the young boy.  How she loved and doted on every one of “her” children, but treated Castiel as a menace.  Even though the kid was sweet, the only affection Cas got was from his father.  He was also goddamn _brilliant,_ probably because he spent all his time in his room in isolation, studying.

Having seen his fair share of shit, Gabriel had asked the young boy at the funeral if he wanted to come live with him.  He was twenty one at the time, had a stable job and a two-bedroom apartment with a roommate planning on moving out within the month.  Castiel had been all wide-eyed gobsmacked, near tearing up from sheer _relief_ before accepting eagerly.  He’d confided later, once everything was settled, that he’d been terrified of what would happen if he’d returned to that house on his own.  
  
It was damn near heartbreaking.

After Gabriel swept him away, his mom never came looking for him.    
  
Not even _once_ , the fucking bitch.    
  
As much as it enraged Gabriel – what the _hell_ kind of mother didn’t even report a missing child, for _God's sake_ –  he figured kidnapping the runt (although _obviously_ illegal) worked out best for all parties concerned.  He knew he could provide the stuff Cas needed for school, and he didn’t have a doubt that the little brainiac would get all the scholarships he needed for college.

What blew Gabriel away was the fact he wanted to go to culinary school.

It brought an even more infuriating fact to light; whenever daddy was working, mommy would cook for the other kids, but _never “_ had enough” for little Castiel.  So he learned from a very young age that if he didn’t make his own food?  He’d probably starve.  Gabriel was shocked after learning this, that he hadn't wound up in the goddamn hospital at least once, malnourished, when dad was on business trips.  Once again, Cas was smart and made the most of his access to their rather elaborate pantry (they were fucking loaded, after all).  

It all made Gabriel even _more_ protective of him.

Naturally, everything worked out in the end.  Cas made all his dreams come true and he continually thanked Gabriel for “kidnapping” him from the cemetery that day.    
  
Of course, Gabriel brushed it off, but told him the relocation was necessary.  So, really, they were much, much closer than cousins.  Maybe even closer than brothers, since Gabriel had practically raised him, or “saved him,” in Castiel’s opinion.

That was probably why Cas was so fiercely protective and loyal when it came to the break-up.

Even though he’d grown to be very good friends with Sam during their time together, once he heard Sam had broken Gabriel’s heart, he cut off communication.  He ended that friendship immediately, before rushing to Gabriel’s side.

Unfortunately, three years together was a long time, and it tested a lot of people’s loyalties.  Most everyone had believed _this was it_.  That Sam and Gabriel were in it for the long haul.  Their lives and everyone in them had assimilated together.  Shit, it was messy.

Thank God, it made some kind of sense as to why Cas _wasn’t_ freaking out on Gabe.  Now here they were, side by side, just fixing the building after a tantrum.

He figured Castiel had a little time to cool off, anyway.  And after the conversation with Meg (which Gabriel was still pretty salty about, but if he didn’t have to explain anything, better for him, right?) Cas’ logical thinking overtook his anger, and sympathy washed everything else away.

There were times, as they worked, that Cas would cast a concerned glance over at Gabriel.  He tried to ignore it.  Really, he did, but eventually he couldn’t help but groan, “You got somethin’ on yer mind?”

“Meg wasn’t the only one who called, you know.”  He aimed for cool, but Gabriel all but froze.

It was next to impossible to release the tension from his shoulders, but he needed to follow Cas’ lead and after clearing his throat, asked breezily, “Oh?  Pretty sure I know who that was.”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Cas hummed out.  “Mostly, because I didn’t know anything.  You were still behind bars and hadn’t reached out.  But.  You _know_ I wouldn’t have, anyway.”

“Heh, yeah.  I know.  But _he_ should know that by now, too,” Gabriel grumbled, putting more strength behind his scrubbing.  “Dumbass will never learn.”

“It’s true.”  He kept those side-glancing coming, and added, “Dean said he’s-”

“I don’t _care_ what Dean said!”  Gabriel very suddenly erupted, and turned his body to face Castiel.  “I get it, you still have your little crush, and that’s not going to change.  I don’t expect you guys to cut off contact, I said I’m fine with that.  But I don’t want your plotting, your interfering, I don’t want him whispering bullshit into your ear!”

Cas seemed unaffected by the outburst, and simply said, “Fair enough,” like nothing serious had happened, like Gabriel _wasn’t_ huffing and puffing and on the verge of throwing another fit.

“Well, then.   _Fine_.  Okay,” Gabriel grouched and turned back to his work, tacking on a, “Glad we cleared that up.”

While he didn’t reply with words, Cas made a noise of affirmation, and they continued on in silence.

As he promised, the two worked meticulously and finished removing the graffiti until the window was spotless and damn near glowing.  Pleased with their final product, they retired just after sunset and Cas whipped them up a drink in celebration.  He’d be able to open tomorrow, after he did some prep work on the pastries tonight and Gabriel could see how damn happy that made him.

While he was still regretful and embarrassed for lashing out at Cas’ baby in the first place, he was glad the damage was temporary and he could do a part in fixing it; both by paying to replace the smashed window and hard labor repairing what he could alongside Cas.  And, hell, if he wasn’t lucky to have an understanding cousin.

They caught up while Cas was making a few batches of dough and spent the time bonding, Gabriel even lending a hand now and then.  Anything he could do, any way he could be an asset - he would take it.

Altogether, it was a good night.  He was able to forget about Sam, for a bit (despite the location), and whatever quality time he could take with Castiel, he’d jump at the chance.

Even though he got a punch to the shoulder after discovering and dipping into the candied cake topping supplies…it was par for the course.

\----------------

Although Friday was the night people typically went out, Gabriel had decided a dry spell was for the best, he needed the hiatus.  After his previous Tuesday drink and bitch-fest a few weeks ago (well, more early-ass Wednesday) had landed him in jail, he decided to cool it with the drinking for a little while.

He’d learned a valuable lesson.

Which, at the current time, meant ignoring texts from both Meg and Ruby.  So when the knock on the door came, he was fully ready to snap at the women that _they_ weren’t the ones who’d been caught that night, and _he’d_ paid the price, so _back the fuck off_.

Throwing open the door, the words died on his tongue.

Because it wasn’t Meg or Ruby on his front door, nope.

It was Sam fucking Winchester.

His dropped jaw and lack of speech must have come off as some kind of invite, because the man decided it was completely alright to push his way inside and shut the door behind them.  Hell, he even locked it, which meant he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Gabriel didn’t like that one bit, and finally found his voice.

“Excuse me, making yourself right at home?  How the fuck did you find me, anyway?”  His bafflement quickly morphed into annoyance as he watched the other man stroll around with his hands in his pockets.

“I didn’t think you’d get another house.  I was surprised when I read the address, to be honest,” Sam admitted with the shrug of his shoulders.  “Thought you’d be hiding out in an apartment.”

“Yeah, well, I like the space.”  Gabriel crossed his arms as Sam helped himself to a seat on the couch and all but snarled, “You didn’t answer my question.  How did you find me?”

Sitting back with all the nonchalance in the world, Sam readily stated, “It was in your paperwork when you were booked.  So was your number, but I knew you’d hang up.  So I thought a house-call would be better.  This…is nice, Gabriel.”

“Glad you enjoy the scenery,” he scoffed and kept his distance.  “What do you want?”

“I want to talk.”  Sam hunched over and folded his hands over his knees, asking softly, “Will you please come over here?”

“You’ve got balls of fuckin’ steel, you know that?”  Gabriel didn’t move, eyeing him down.  “You can’t just prance in here and expect-”

“Please.  _Please_ , just hear me out.  You took off before I could talk to you at the station.  I gave you your space, hell, I could have tracked you down right after you left.  But I wanted to give you a chance to think about what I said.”  He was so sincere, those puppy eyes out in full effect, but Gabriel was immune.

“Think about what?  The way you assaulted me with your face?”  He asked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.  “Sure, that may have given me some material for the spank-bank, given the exotic location, but there wasn’t much to think about afterwards.”

“You know what I mean.”  Sam huffed and shook his head.  “I’m…working on making changes.  I _need_ you to know that.  So let me explain?  Please.”

Gabriel considered him.  He watched him, in all his crestfallen glory, hanging on Gabriel’s every word.

And…Sam was right.  If he had his address, he could have followed him, struck while the iron was hot, but instead he gave him a month.  A full month before…whatever was happening, happened.  Still, Gabriel didn’t _want_ this to happen.  He didn’t want to see him again, because he just knew his resolve would weaken - just as it had when he was behind bars.

He couldn’t physically give Sam the boot, the overgrown giant was too big, he’d have to call for reinforcements.  That meant the only option was to go along with this.  So with a groan, and a very dramatic one at that, he stomped his way over to the other side of the couch, putting as much distance between them as possible.  And stared.

Sam slowly stated, “Thank you,” with a small smile and shifted his body to face Gabriel.

“Don’t thank me for anything.  Just know there’s no other way to get rid of you.”  He tried to keep his tone sharp and petulant.  He didn’t want Sam to think, even for a second, that he was welcomed here.

Because then Gabriel may end up feeling the same.  And that couldn’t happen.

Sam tried to fight the frown that was working its way onto his features, but he’d prepared for this.  He knew Gabriel would fight him, tooth and nail, and he’d expected it.  So he spoke slowly when he began to talk.

“I…know why you left.  And I would’ve, too.  I was a goddamn idiot for not seeing the signs sooner, and fixing things then.  Because _you_ were _so much more_ important than my stupid job.  I had tunnel vision, I was trying to make a name for myself and prove everyone wrong who was telling me I was just a kid, that...I couldn’t make a difference.  When _you’d_ been supportive of me from day one, _you’d_ been in my corner no matter what, and I...pushed you away.”  Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Gabriel was unimpressed.

Because he knew all these things.

He wasn’t, and had never, been a diva about it.

Sam had been _obsessed_.  He’d brought work home with him every single day once he started his job at the courthouse.  It was because of the people who surrounded him there.  It was a toxic work environment, caused by the high crime rate in the county and the smarmy attitudes of the other attorneys looking down their noses and mocking him.  No matter how hard he fought, he could never get a leg up, and it _consumed him._

At first, Gabriel had tried to help him.  He’d tried to assist him organize the cases, lighten the load and make it easier for his boyfriend because – as he told him again and again – Sam took on _too much_.    
  
And he _kept_ taking on more and more.

And every time he lost a case, – which was pretty often, he didn’t exactly get top pick as far as cases – Sam’s mood swings wouldn’t just affect him, he’d demand isolation to lick his wounds.  It was a vicious spiral, bringing work home, burning the candle at both ends, completely ignoring Gabriel, absentmindedly snapping at him whenever he tried to help.  He’d taken his presence for granted, assumed Gabriel would fold away like some kept woman until Sam needed him.  _If_ Sam ever needed him.

Sam thought that when he finally made a name for himself, when he could pick and choose the cases he wanted to work on, Gabriel would be there by his side.

But…Gabriel was _barely_ even a part of Sam’s life anymore.  He wasn’t even a blip on Sam’s radar.

Sam was fucking married to his work, and Gabriel felt like he was little more than a hindrance.  On one such case that Sam had magnificently lost, Gabriel wanted to talk about it, about _them_ , and about how _worried_ he was about _Sam_.    
  
It ended with Sam shouting and demanding he be left alone.  For Gabriel, it was the final confirmation that _he_ was the only one who gave a shit about them anymore.

So maybe _Gabriel_ should just stop giving a shit.

Hell, it took Sam _three days_ to even notice that Gabriel had left.  
  
The kicker?  
  
It was only because there weren't groceries in the fridge.

That call was something that had solidified in Gabriel’s mind that he’d done the right thing.  Sam calling him, after _three fucking days_ , to ask, “Where are you?” hurt something awful.

Sam hadn’t noticed he’d left him, until three fucking days later.  
  


It wasn’t that he didn’t love Sam – of _fucking course_ he did, he loved Sam with all he had in him – but this wasn’t a Rom-Com, and "love alone" was not enough.   _Gabriel_ had enough.  This had been going on for months, and he should have realized that in any healthy relationship?  That was _months_ too long.

That may have been Sam’s wake-up call, but it was too late.

He rearranged his life as much as he could, begged for Gabriel to come back until he changed his number and couldn’t find where he’d gone.  Sam had tried to grovel to his cousin Cas (who happened to be one of _Sam's own_ best friends), but it turned out the normally docile man was pretty infuriated with him, too.

As he should be.  Sam was enraged with _himself_.    
  
And when Charlie had called him with the news, “even though I know you’re not taking anymore clients right now, there’s this really cool guy in the drunk tank, name’s Gabriel Novak,” it was the happiest he’d been in fucking _months_.  Even the barest chance that he could talk to him, that he could help him?  He’d take it, God, he just needed to see him.

Because, sitting here right now, it wasn’t a matter of not loving the other.    
  
It was a matter of Sam royally fucking up.  And he’d been working on himself every single day since.

Yet, Gabriel had to transform the heartbreak he felt at having to leave, of being neglected into something _else_.  It was the only way he could make it.  His feelings of abandonment had manifested into resentment - and lashing out felt better than feeling empty.  Because every day he’d been with Sam, hoping things would get better, he’d been pushed away.

And he was much, much better working with righteous, bitter anger.

Hell, it was the reason his boozed-up ass had destroyed Cas’ bakery, after all.

“I changed jobs,” Sam offered, first.  “I’m working with Meg, now.  At Shurley’s firm.  And, number one rule, leave work at work.  He told me we’re very client and service-based, so it’s a company rule that every case is quality over quantity.  I _refuse_ , not to mention I can’t, legally with the contract, dig myself into a hole again.”

“Nice to know.”  Gabriel’s voice was monotone and even, not giving Sam anything to work with.

“I’d already started doing that.  I already started doing a lot of things, after you left.  Since everything was wrong.”  He wiped a hand down his face, “Gabe, I’m so sorry.  I can’t even begin to even think about how you felt.  I’m the biggest asshole in the world, and I deserved it, but…I can’t stop thinking about you.  I’d do anything to make it better.  Literally, _anything_.”

Sam’s begging was chipping away at him, because his voice was beginning to break and, _JesusfuckingChrist_ , if there was one thing Gabriel hated more than anything in the universe?  It was to see the kid in pain.

No matter what, he _hated_ to see Sam hurt.  Which was the bitch of it all.  He could see how much Sam still loved him, how bad he wanted him back, but…could Gabriel even chalk it up to a learning curve?

They’d been together for three years, and they’d fallen apart in a few months.    
  
But…that _wasn’t_ something that you did to someone you’d been with for that long.  You didn’t stab your (long-term) boyfriend so deep and hope that it’d all just go away.

Heartbreak was a euphemism, at least.

Everything they’d built in those years was gone, because Sam had pushed him away and didn’t even try to fix things when Gabriel (who was _usually_ the emotionally stunted one) had tried to bring it up.    
  
Numerous times.    
  
Only to hear the phrases, “I’m too tired,” “I had a rough day,” “I need to be alone.”  When _Gabriel_ had been alone completely, _growing lonelier_ with each passing day.

“I…can’t do this without you,” Sam suddenly blurted out before his voice betrayed him.  “You’re _it_ , Gabe.  I kick myself every goddamn day.  I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I don’t know what I’ll do if you can’t tell me how to fix it.”

Gabriel was biting his lip so hard, he was pretty sure he could taste the metallic tang of blood.  Fuck, now Sam _was_ falling apart, and _he_ couldn’t do this…

“Fucking a-” Gabriel hissed under his breath, before he snapped, “Get yourself together!  You’re not allowed to feel sorry for yourself!  Pull on your big girl panties and stop!”

Even though his words were harsh, he closed the distance between them and gathered his damn Sasquatch into his arms.  Sam reached out and clung to the fabric at Gabriel’s back and took long, shaky breaths in while he collected himself.  Sam’s face was buried in his neck, cursing out something along the lines of, “ _he didn’t mean to do this-_ ” but Gabriel couldn’t see him like this.

He never could.

It took a little while, but Sam’s breath finally evened out and he pulled away, a faint blush on his cheeks.

He swallowed and sheepishly grumbled, “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

“Stop with the sorrys,” Gabriel was direct, but his voice softened just enough to not be a callous dick.  “Show me results.”

It took Sam a second to figure out what he meant, and slowly asked, “Does that mean-”

“It doesn’t mean _anything_.  I’m sayin’ if you’re serious about changing?  Then change.  And…” he couldn’t believe he was saying this, “I won’t go hide in the wind.  I’ll keep my address.  And my phone number.  But I ain’t promising anything.”

“Okay,” Sam had turned from rejected to happy puppy in the blink of an eye.  “Thank you, I mean, yeah, I’ll show you.  I’ll make it up to you.  I _promise_ ,” and he was on his feet.

“Don’t make me press stalking charges, that’ll get you disbarred pretty damn quick.”  Gabriel stayed on the couch with his arms crossed as Sam made his way to the door.

“I didn’t mean to corner you.  I mean, well, I _did_.  I knew it’d be the only way to make you listen but, uh, I won’t.  In the future.  I’ll do what you said, I’ll show you results.”  He repeated back and, with the flash of a smile, he was gone.  
  
Just like that.

Gabriel didn’t move, he sighed long and heavy and shook his head.

Because the stubborn, driven Sam he remembered?  Wouldn’t change for anything.  He sure as hell wouldn’t change for him and their _relationship_ , so why the hell would it matter now that they were broken up and done with?

No, Gabriel wouldn’t get his hopes up.  He refused to get his heart broken _again_ , so that’s why the ball was in Sam’s court.    
  
Maybe...because deep down, he hoped Sam would prove him wrong.

But he sure as hell wasn’t holding his breath.  

\------------------

_Gabriel 4:45pm_  
_Megan need a favor  
U know u owe me_

_Meg 4:49pm_  
_Exactly how long are you going to be playing that card Novak?_  
_But whatever  
whats this favor_

_Gabriel 4:55pm_  
_Need u to stay a little later today_  
_Get into Sam’s office and see if he really is leaving his work at work_  
_Heard thru the grapevine he’s working w u  
This is important_

_Meg 4:58pm  
_ _You do realize that everyone locks their office because all the case work we do is confidential, right?_

_Gabriel 4:59pm  
_ _u do realize u and I both know u can pick a lock right???_

_Meg 5:01pm_  
_You’re an asshole._  
_Fine._  
_I know he’s finishing up one case and it’s going to trial soon, so if there’s anything missing it’d be that one since he needs to prepare_  
_He just got a new profile yesterday_  
_I’ll look for both  
Why do you want to know?_

_Gabriel 5:06pm_  
_Why do u think  
ur a smart girl_

_Meg 5:08pm  
I’m proud of you _

_Gabriel 5:10pm_  
_the fuck is that supposed to mean_

_Meg 5:12pm_  
_You’re a smart boy_  
_Stand by.  I’ll wait until the place clears out_

Meg wasn’t surprised when Gabriel didn’t respond to her last text, but she knew damn well that he was clutching his phone in anticipation.  It was left unsaid, but she _was_ proud of him because the only reason in the damn world that he would care about Sam’s work still being here was because he saw a sliver of a chance of them getting back together.

Since Sam being an obsessive fuckwad and bringing it home was what drove Gabriel away in the first place.

Gabriel was looking for progress, and he'd given Sam time.  The months had flown by since Sam had begun at the firm, and it had been - what?  Coming up on four, maybe five, already?  Who knew if that would be enough for the lawyer to break all his bad habits, and Meg knew just how hard it was to do something like that, firsthand.  No matter how much time you were given, and if it was in the Company Manual, or not, bad habits died hard and you could _always_ find a loophole.

She already had an inkling, since it had been _her_ to train him; she’d been watching the way he worked, his methods of handling the cases, and the way he’d need to be re-trained the “Shurley Way”.  Meg was lucky to have been taught the right way, the _first_ time.

The pain in the ass part of Gabriel’s request was the fact that she was fucking excellent at her job and more than an efficient worker, so of course she had already finished her work for the day. 

So now she was lounging around her desk, watching her co-workers file out of the building, one by one, all while trying to look busy.  She saw Sam leave, as he’d waved to her, followed by Ruby who’d sent her a wink.

Those two did _not_ get along, whatsoever.

She had a feeling it was because while Sam knew Meg beforehand (so he couldn’t _really_ get mad at her at the whole debacle that landed Gabriel in jail) he _hadn’t_ known Ruby.  Gabriel, after all, had become fast friends with Meg, and Ruby was already her partner-in-crime, so the three grew close.  Especially _after_ the break-up.  Which was something Sam decidedly hated, though Meg reckoned that was at least partially jealousy on his part, along with a healthy dose of protective anger.  It was rather amazing how similar they were, actually.

Oh well, at least it left Meg with tons of jabbing material.

After an entire half-hour, it sounded like the floor was finally cleared out.  She listened closely and couldn’t hear any milling, any chatter, any…anything.  So Meg grabbed a paper clip and a bobby pin from her desk and wandered out into the hallway.

Sam’s door was five offices down from hers, and it looked like all the lights were off so she was prepped and ready.  The unfortunate thing was how damn _contemporary_ the layout was.  All the walls were made of fogged glass, so even though they were sound proof and offered confidentiality, if someone was walking by?  They could still spot her silhouette in Sam’s office.

She needed to work quickly.

It had been awhile since her pre-law days, but she easily dropped to her knees and bent the metal on both objects, to coax open the lock.  There were some skills you never really forgot, and lock-picking happened to be one of them.  Once it clicked, a wide grin spread on her face and she sprung the door open, walking on the balls of her feet so her heels were silent.  She closed the door as soundlessly as possible, and turned on the flashlight app on her phone once she was in front of Sam’s desk.

It was obnoxiously tidy and easy to go through, she’d have to be careful about re-arranging it into the insanely, meticulously organized way he’d left it.  But as she scanned through…

…everything was here.

Every last bit of preparation for the trial, every last folder they were given on the case, the client’s profile, all of Sam’s notes in a binder with tabs.  Hell, even his company iPad and laptop were here!  

She scoffed, turned off the flashlight and opened a text.

_Meg 6:01pm_  
_Dude it’s annoying how much work is at work_  
_I can see why you broke up with him_  
_If I tried this hard and put this much time and energy into cases?_  
_I’d change my fucking profession  
wtf_

She then, just to prove her point and drive it home with Gabriel, took a picture of the spread across Sam’s desk from multiple angles and sent the files to him (making sure none of the personal information or names were visible for confidentiality), adding in: _This is just one case.  That innocent folder in the corner?  Next victim._

_Gabriel 6:09pm_  
_goddammit  
that little shit_

_Meg 6:11pm_  
_Hey, I’d like some credit!_  
_I trained him._  
_Well, not to get all A Beautiful Mind on it_  
_But to put in hours while you’re here, and “refresh your mind” when you’re not  
That’s the company not me btw_

She waited for a second, and didn’t get an answer, but _did_ hear someone walking through the halls and her body froze.  At this point, the only way she could hide was by dropping out of sight, behind the desk.

From her haunches, she peered out the side and realized…

The janitorial staff had begun their work for the night.

Fuck!

How did she play this?!  Would they know that this office wasn’t hers?  …did she know anyone on the janitorial staff?

She frowned at her phone and noticed Gabriel _still_ hadn’t answered.  Well, she didn’t really have a plan for escape yet, so she turned her ringer off, dimmed the brightness until it was barely readable and shot him another message.

_Meg 6:20pm  
_ _Yo what now?_

She really hated being ignored, and it wasn’t above her to send a flurry of messages until she got one in response.

_Meg 6:23pm_  
_I’m trapped in Sam’s office btw_  
_Clean-up crews outside  
I deserve an answer while I plot_

_Meg 6:30pm  
_ _Not going away anytime soon_

_Gabriel 6:34pm  
_ _I’m pissed off and plotting too!_

Meg frowned at the screen, because that didn’t exactly make sense.

_Meg 6:38pm  
_ _Isn’t this a good thing?_

_Gabriel 6:41pm  
_ _It’s a thing all right_

_Meg 6:43pm_  
_Hey I just did my share of breaking and entering_  
_And now I could be in deep shit for doing you a bonehead favor  
You could at least give me something to work with_

_Gabriel 6:47pm  
When I figure it out I’ll let u know _

Meg knew a blow off when she saw one and cursed under her breath when the whir of the machine cleaning the tile started right outside the door.  She jammed the phone into her bra and glared at the floor, her thighs beginning to burn.  How the fuck was she going to handle this?

Her own office was still open, and that’s where her purse, her keys and all of her shit to get out of the building were.  Not to mention their offices?

Needed a key to be locked.

So it wasn’t like she could just waltz out of Sam’s and re-lock it from the outside with the paper clip and bobby pin while the clean-up crew watched her.

She crashed down to her ass and crossed her legs, coming to terms with the fact that she’d be stuck in her for a damn long time.  Fucking Gabriel.  This was the _last_ favor he’d be able to squeeze out of her!


	4. It Is What It Is

Charging up the steps to their former house was surreal.

After all, they’d bought this place.  Together.  

They’d lived here, happily, for two years and what they’d hoped for would be forever.  This was the same place Gabriel booked it out of when their relationship was in shambles, and refused to even drive by, let alone find himself at the front door of.  Luckily enough, when he’d dug around his new place, he still had a key buried deep in a box of shit he never unpacked.

And he was using it now, in a moment of adrenaline and stupid impulsive rebellion.

Hell, he was storming the castle, and Sam wouldn’t know _what_ hit him.

He threw open the door and jammed the key in his coat pocket, kicking off his shoes and listening for a moment to find out where the little asshat was.

Eventually, he heard the sounds of shuffling (and then silence) in between the kitchen and the living room.  He followed it without preamble and stealth, because he didn’t need either of those.  Something else entirely was propelling him forward.

When he whipped around the corner, it was to see Sam armed with a bat, looking alarmed with his jaw dropped.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and grabbed the weapon by the end, tossing it across the room where it clattered to the floor and drawled out, “ _Really_?  Just how many thieves have a _key_ to yer goddamn _house_ , muttonhead?”

“W-what are you doing here?  You just scared the crap out of me!”  He huffed out, the panic dying in his eyes and transforming into confusion.  “You still have your key?”

“Yep.  And I’m cashing in.”  Gabriel grabbed the collar of his old Stanford hoodie and hauled him down, so they were eye to eye, “Angry sex. _Now_.”

Although Sam was stammering out syllables, looking for words, he also allowed himself to be forcefully yanked up the stairs and easily shoved back down into what was once _their_ bed.  

Even though it took some time, once the hoodie was gone and he was left in his t-shirt and sweatpants, he managed, “W-what prompted this?”

“You.” Gabriel all but snarled, “You and your ‘changing of your ways.’  Goddammit!  You were _supposed_ to be a fuck-up.  You were _supposed_ to be the same asshole who pushed me away, and here you are!  Bettering yourself!”

“Y-you…” Sam gasped as the cool air of the room hit his chest, shirt now gone and Gabriel’s hands hot against his skin.  “You realize how ridiculous that sounds…r-right.”

With a glare, Gabriel tore off his own shirt, then jeans, before he returned to straddle Sam on the bed.  “It’s not fair.”

Sam was poised with something else to fight back with, but when Gabriel ground his hips down he was happy to discover both of them were erect and Sam’s retort turned into a moan.  And then it finally prompted his hands to lash out and cup Gabriel’s face, hauling him down into a filthy kiss.

It was eagerly returned, both had missed this more than either would admit.  So much so that removing the rest of their clothes was a struggle as they refused to tear their mouths away.  But it eventually happened, albeit sloppily, with some elbows and knees knocking.  By then their bodies were demanding more.

When Sam rolled his hips upward against Gabriel’s, his voice was shaky but he _had_ to know, “Does this mean y-you’re gonna give me another chance?”

Gabriel was busy sucking a bruise against the other man’s neck while he considered the question.  He decided he didn’t like it, and mouthed down the column of his throat, biding his time because he didn’t have an answer.  Sure, he missed the kid, sure his body was _aching_ for him, _needing_ him in every possible way and sure…he _still_ loved him.  
  
But that question was loaded.

Instead, he reached down and fisted Sam’s cock, teasing his nipple into hardness with his teeth and, while he writhed under Gabriel, he returned, “This…is what it is.”

That’s all he could say.  And even though Sam was coming alive, jerking his hips into Gabriel’s hand, he seemed torn, now that he knew how Gabriel felt.

In the blink of an eye, Sam’s attitude flipped, and suddenly he was manhandling _Gabriel_ , his back slammed against the mattress with enough force to leave him breathless.  But that wasn’t the only thing that stole the air from his lungs.

Sam’s entire being radiated fervor, and his words were filled to the brim with lust when he asserted, “We better make this count, then,” and roughly laced his fingers through Gabriel’s hair.

The kiss was the kind of brutal Gabriel had been showing him, the kind of angry, chaotic yearning that had underlying… _things_ they wouldn’t dare mention.  And while Sam licked inside his mouth, he reached into the nightstand.  It took him a damn long time to dig, Sam practically had his entire arm in the friggin thing, before he pulled out a bottle of lube.

Gabriel would have laughed at Sam’s grunts of frustration as he dug.   _If_ his rocking hips weren’t creating the most amazing friction against his cock and driving him mad.  Sam even hummed happily when he finally found it, hidden at the very back of the damn drawer.

Then he and the bottle moved down Gabriel’s body, Sam’s mouth kissing and licking his chest, his stomach, and his hips with almost a worshiping quality.  It made Gabriel’s heart and his stomach do flip-flops, and that reminded him that this tenderness _wasn’t_ what he showed up for.  He was two seconds away from snapping at Sam-

But that’s when he sucked at the head of Gabriel’s cock, and began to eagerly lap away the dripping precum.  It made the man gasp and buck up naturally, and Sam relaxed his throat to swallow him down.

Sam’s hand lashed out to shove Gabriel’s pelvis down into the mattress, to keep him steady as he took his time and his own pace deep-throating his dick.  And that was fine, Gabriel wouldn’t complain.  The suction and the way Sam swirled his tongue was fan-fucking-tastic.

The words, “God, I missed that mouth,” were out in the open before he could help himself, and when he looked down all he saw was a haughty smirk.

Then, Sam even had the guts to say, “I know,” but it was breathy and slightly strained.

That was when Gabriel looked past the amazing blowjob - and realized that Sam was _already_ three fingers deep inside _himself_.  Fuck, Gabriel was moaning for a completely new reason and couldn’t tear his eyes away.

They’d never turned the light off in the bedroom and Sam’s skin was flushed, with the beginning of sweat glistening off his flexing muscles as his fingers pumped in and out of his hole.  Now that he knew Gabriel was watching, he opted for kitten-licking his cock and spreading his legs to give him a show and, _goddammit_ , Gabriel was worried he would cum just like this.

Sam had never been shy in bed, and Gabriel had been even more impossibly confident than him; which made their sexual chemistry _electric_.  So praises like, “Jesus, you’re beautiful,” still spilled from his lips as he watched without hesitation.

“You should see yourself,” Sam countered with that wild look in his eyes as he crawled back up Gabriel’s body…but then -  
  
Everything took a turn when Sam froze, eyes like a deer in headlight.

“What?”  Impulsively, Gabriel reached out to run his hands soothingly up and down the man’s thighs, then asked, “You changing your mind on me?”

“No.  _Shit_ , I didn’t even think to _ask-_ ” he stumbled out, nervous and unhinged, “…have you been with anyone?  I-I don’t have condoms.”

Gabriel could barely hold back a laugh and he couldn’t he held accountable for his actions, now that Sam was so close.  He had the _overwhelming_ desire to reach out and tease at Sam’s wet, stretched hole, so he surrendered.  “Nah, been having a dry spell,” he pushed his fingers in (God, yes, it was worth it), earning him a shamelessly loud moan ( _so_ worth it) as he asked, “you?”

“Heh,” Sam’s body melted against the touch, sinking into Gabriel’s ministrations and chuckled, “No, I was too busying trying to get y-” he abruptly stopped, the _‘get you back,’_ hung silently between them.

It was something that practically stabbed Gabriel in the damn heart all over again, and he moved quickly.  One second, he was snatching up the lube to cover his own cock, and the next he’d grabbed Sam’s hips, nails biting into the man’s flesh to drag him down until their bodies were flush, now one.

Sam’s surprise and pleasure echoed through the room as he was suddenly filled with Gabriel’s cock, doubling over from the intense stretch and burn that hit him like a freight train.  Gabriel was in no better shape, now raking his fingers down Sam’s side, leaving red lines in their wake.  Being wrapped in that tight, hot body again was almost too much - but _still not enough_.

Gabriel opened his eyes to see Sam’s already locked with his, pupils so dilated with need there was barely any color left.  And he began to rock.  He was still getting used to Gabriel’s size, still easing into it, but his body was demanding more.  Maybe it was too soon, but when he finally lifted himself up and slammed back down: it felt perfect.

And then Sam didn’t care if he felt it in the morning, he _couldn’t_ wait.

He set a rhythm of fucking himself up and down on Gabriel’s cock that was fast and brutal, using the headboard as leverage and balance to feed the desire coursing through his veins.

It caught Gabriel completely off guard, and even though he’d been the one to come in here, demanding angry sex?  

_Sam_ was the one who was giving it to him.  

And Gabriel would not be out done.  No matter _how_ tempting it would be to sit back and watch Sam fuck himself into cumming and do none of the work.

That _wasn’t_ what this was about.

And he wanted to make the other man see stars.

Gabriel was bound and determined to gain back some control, even though this little shit had sent him spiraling.  He widened his stance, dug his heels into the mattress and began thrusting up and into him, just as hard as every one of Sam’s downward grinds.

The obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin and the noises Sam began to make, half-helpless whines and unabashed moaning, were music to Gabriel’s ears.  Each staccato thrust up was ruthless, and Sam was losing his grip on the headboard.  So Gabriel took that weight off him and grabbed his wrists, hauling him back down and surging up to grab the nape of his neck.  He tugged their lips back together, because he couldn’t go another second without kissing the hell out of this gorgeous man.

Now that they were connected?  Dismissing the logistics, the _reason_ they were, Gabriel didn’t want to say that he could pretend, or anything but…

Okay, he could _totally_ pretend.

Because (so what?) their kiss _was_ a little more tender, it was loving, even though their bodies were still slamming together and chasing release.  Their lips brushing told a completely different story.

And…that kind of passion?  It sparked a deep-seated need in Gabriel, and he was groaning out and spilling inside Sam before he knew it.

Sam pulled away to let him ride out his orgasm and catch his breath, and after a few more rolls of his hips, Sam was grabbing for Gabriel, blowing his load over both their bodies.  And he wasn’t shy about moaning out Gabriel’s name as the pleasure overtook him, over and over.

It fell from his lips like a mantra, and faded into a hushed whisper as he spread kisses along Gabriel’s neck, still holding onto him for dear life.

And…Gabriel let him cling.  Because this afterglow was _glorious_.

But then when Sam pulled off his softening cock and collapsed on top of him, curling up - Gabriel was at a loss.

It looked a whole lot like Sam was putting the ball in his court, because he was silent.    
  
Very deliberately silent.    
  
Just waiting for Gabriel to make a move.  To say something.  Seeing if he was going to stay or leave.

Gabriel had no friggin idea _what_ the hell do to.

Having Sam’s weight on his chest like this, it was amazing.  But, typically, after angry sex you hit it and quit it.  Gabriel should have picked his clothes up off the floor, cleaned up in the bathroom, and be headed home by now.  He could _still_ do that.  

After all, it _had_ been intense as all hell.  He needed a chance to catch his breath, so taking a timeout was completely understandable.  But letting Sam cuddle up like this?  This was dangerous.  This was ticking over into snuggling.

It was late, but if he stayed the night…it would change _everything_.

Yet, his reasoning _for_ angry sex in the first place was because Sam himself was changing.  He was doing everything right, just as he’d promised Gabriel he would do.  He was fixing himself, and there were eyewitness accounts.  He was trying so hard, dammit, and _that_ was why Gabriel was pissed off.  Because Sam wanted them back together so badly.

And now Gabriel wasn’t even sure where this brewing hostility that was bubbling up again was aimed at.

Was it at Sam?  Or was it at himself?

Because that simple question alone could turn his world upside down.

Sam felt Gabriel tense up underneath him, and he couldn’t keep silent any longer.    
  
But…he was anxious (terrified, really) not to scare the man away.  So he aimed for nonchalant when he said, “We should make angry sex a thing.  That was awesome.”

Okay, _that_ was something that Gabriel could work with.

“Yeah, well, keep pissing me off.  We can keep it going,” he snorted and dared to glance down to where Sam was pillowed against his shoulder.

Then he wished he hadn’t.    
  
Because Sam’s eyes were full of serene fondness and affection when he looked at him, even though his words were a bit nervous.  God, did Gabriel still love him.  His eyes must have softened in light of Sam’s, because the other man’s response was a bit more bold.

“Or I don’t have to piss you off.  We can cut out the angry part and just try for sex.”  He shrugged noncommittally.  “It’s a thought.”

“We _have_ always had phenomenal sex,” Gabriel let himself reflect aloud and turned to look at the ceiling.

He had absolutely no idea what to do right now.  He was so fucking comfortable, he was back in his bed, in a home he never intended to leave in the first place, with what was once the love of his life so seamlessly pillowed against him.  Someone who wanted him back with everything in him.  

But Gabriel was being stubborn.

Because that’s how he was built.  That’s how he was made: he was a stubborn asshole and good things like this didn’t just happen.

He couldn’t erase the past in the blink of an eye, with a snap of his fingers, because Sam hadn’t been the one who was hurt.  He was.  No matter if things were getting better, Gabriel’s thick-headedness wasn’t just a bad habit, it was carved into who he was, practically an automatic defense by now, but…

Sam _had_ helped him through it before.

Could he do it again?  Would Gabriel _let_ him do it again?

“Gabe…” Sam’s voice was hushed in the deafening quiet of the room.  “I’m not making you stay, if that’s what you’re worried about.  I won’t be mad if you leave.  I get it.  I won’t be upset.  I know you have to come around on your own time and-”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Gabriel suddenly spat.  “I’m trying to figure it out, all right?  Don’t give me all this understanding crap, I don’t need it.”

“All right, I was just trying to help.”  His voice raised a lilt in intensity, and he sounded a little offended.

“You can stop helping and stop being perfect, because it’s not fair,” he grumbled under his breath.  “It’s so fucking _hard_ to be mad at you but it’s _just as hard_ to get over what happened.  It’s like I’m being torn in half, and my pride is being a sonuvabitch.  Sam…” he sighed heavily, “being with you was the best three years of my life.  And you threw it all away in a matter of months, despite my every effort.  I’m not a talker, I’m not the let’s-chat-about-our-feelings guy, but I _tried_.  And you were fuckin’ deaf.  You didn’t give a shit about us or what we had, and-” with a deep breath in, he finally admitted, “You don’t know what that did to me.”

“I watched us fall apart.  Day by day.  I watched us deteriorate.  I watched you push me away, and I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.  I was completely alone, the goddamn love of my life had traded me in for his ego with a fuck-all job and I wasn’t worth it.   _We_ weren’t worth it to you.  And then you didn’t even realize I’d jumped ship.  No one’s broken my heart.  I _don’t let_ people close enough _to_ break my heart.  And, congrats, you managed the impossible.”

Sam had completely locked up on his chest, like a stone statue, and Gabriel couldn’t even tell whether or not he was breathing.

Maybe then, with that out in the open, Gabriel figured it would be best if he left.  He slowly moved to sit up, to shift Sam’s weight away so he could make his escape.  Instead, the man sprang into action, catching his shoulder to push him back into the bed, looming over to meet his eyes.

“Gabe, why do you think I’d called you every day after I pulled my head out of my ass?  Why do you think I have been looking for you every fucking day after you changed your number?  Why do you think I’ve been working so hard to change?  I know I was an idiot, I know I fucked up in the worst way, and I can’t apologize enough, but I’ll spend every day making it up to you if you let me.”

He chewed his bottom lip, because Sam’s eyes were frantic all over again, but the kid knew better than to break down.  Sam was holding his shit together much better than last time.  Maybe because he recognized he had to, and was stronger for it.

Sam pulled Gabriel to sit up with him so they were on an even playing field and dared to reach out and lace his fingers through the hair at the nape of Gabriel’s neck.  “Do you think…you’d ever give me another chance?”  Then with a hint of defiance he asked, “Or is it _your_ ego?”

“Wow.  Cut right to the point, huh?”  Gabriel’s eyes narrowed to a glare, but before he could add a scalding retort, Sam interrupted.

“Haven’t we _both_ been punished enough?  After I realized what I’d done, what I’d single-handled ruined...it broke me, too.  I want to try and move forward.  I told you, _you’re it_.  I love you, and I…need you.  More than you know,” he leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, desperate for some kind of contact.

With a heaved sigh, Gabriel groaned, “Asshole move.  Bringing my ego into it, kid.”

“I know.  I’m an asshole,” there was a grin tugging the corner of his mouth, “but someone had to say it.  Or else I was worried _it_ would keep doing the talking.  Tell me what _you_ need from me, Gabe.”

“Fuck!”  He abruptly pushed away and flopped back onto the mattress, wiping a hand down his face.  “I hate this.  I hate this _so_ fucking _much_.”

Sam didn’t know what to do, so he watched him curiously and didn’t follow him.  He just hesitantly asked, “Uh.  Yeah?”

“Of course, I fucking love you!  Of course, I want everything to be better!  But am I forgiving you too easily?  Are you batting your pretty eyelashes, and I’m losing my backbone?  I don’t fucking know.  And I can’t go through that again.  I…” he blew through his lips.  “I can’t, Sam.”

Whenever Gabriel didn’t use some form of nickname, Sam knew it was serious.  Well, he knew this entire situation was serious, but it only worked to drive the point home.

“Do you want to start with staying the night?”  He suggested, hesitantly yet encouragingly.  “I mean, it’s getting late.  I’ll get us cleaned up…you left a lot of your stuff here and I never had the heart to get rid of it.”  With a ghost of a smile, Sam admitted, “To be honest, I was so determined to get you back, I just figured I’d have it waiting for you."

Gabriel studied him for a second before he threw his arms in the air and announced, “Fuck it!  My shit’s already here.  And you’re right.  It’s late.”

Sam’s small smile spread into a brilliant one as he announced, “I’ll get a washcloth, just sit tight and I’ll get you your clothes!”  When he stood up, he paused and then frowned with a, “I’ll need a shower…don’t run away when I’m in the bathroom?”

He looked so adorable, so freaking concerned that Gabriel was gonna turn tail and take off when his back was turned, that he snorted.

“I’ll do you one better.”  Gabriel pushed himself up off the bed and reminded him, “I like to go to bed clean, thank you very much.  And we bought a house with a giant shower for a reason, Sasquatch.  I’m joinin’.”

“Really?”

With a firm smack to Sam’s ass, Gabriel confirmed, “Really.  Now get moving.  I’m tired.  And I miss the water pressure.  My place’s got nothing on ours.”

The word ’ours’ fell so easily from his tongue he both loved and hated it, but wouldn’t overthink it.  He missed this place.  He’d left not only most of his belongings behind, and his partner - but most of the things that made up his very _life_.  All the little things that added up and manifested into how Gabriel _lived_ , who he was (or _had been_ ) in a way.  
  
This, no matter how brief, was a glimpse back to his own normalcy.  The normal that he’d always dreamed of attaining, that he _had_ attained, and then been forced to leave behind.  Maybe it wouldn’t be _terrible_ to have a taste again.

He had to tread lightly, though.  He was worried he’d fall back into routine too easily, it might even combat that stubborn pride.

Who was he kidding?  Between the easy dynamic and Sam’s timid yet ecstatic smile, it was the _only thing_ that would overcome his pride.

Gabriel may even let it…

\-----------------

The next morning did _not_ go the way Sam had hoped.

When he woke up, he found himself alone and it left a pit in his stomach.  It wasn’t like he thought that one night was going to fix everything - he wasn’t an idiot.  Still, he’d hoped to spend a little more time together, maybe get the chance to wake up next to Gabriel again.  Have the opportunity to make him a cup of coffee before he left, you know, the little things…

Because waking up alone?

That had Sam staring at the ceiling, contemplating all of the reasons _why_ he was alone.  Some of those thoughts spawned nightmarish scenarios that made him question if he was still asleep.  But no, he was just letting himself get carried away.    
  
It was probably just too soon, he needed to accept it and move on.  Still, he continually cast an eye over his right shoulder to the empty space.

Gabriel’s side of the bed.

One that he’d not filled with himself or anyone else’s body heat since the man had left him.  It was a secret that only Sam knew, and Gabriel would probably grouse was too sappy and unnecessary, but it meant something.  It wouldn’t and couldn’t be substituted by anyone else.

Except, Sam had gotten lucky last night, and that luck had nothing to do with sex.

He hummed when he finally got out of bed and made a move to the kitchen, the coffee he was thinking about earlier was now a necessity rather than a luxury.  And, just then, a small piece of torn-out paper caught his eye.

He’d recognize that scrawl anywhere.

Gabriel hadn’t just ran off, he’d _actually_ taken the time to leave a note.  One that Sam snatched up immediately.

_Promised Cas I’d help out at the asscrack of dawn again today  
_ _Even though you’ve ‘looked through my paperwork’ here’s my number so you’re not the hugest fucking creep ever_

_-G_

The number was written in the margin, _willfully_ given, and Sam’s heart was swelling with sheer joy because this...?  

This was a win.    
  
This was a step closer, this was moving in the right direction, _finally_ , and this was…

He wondered briefly how his next conversation with Cas should go, now that he knew the full story from Meg.  Well, now that he knew that he, Sam never-let-real-life-get-in-the-way-of-court-victory Winchester, was the reason Castiel had to replace his shop front.  Sam felt like he should do something.  Because it didn’t matter whether or not he was holding the hammer, it was his fault the damage had been done.

While he poured his coffee, he pondered over things he could do for Gabriel’s cousin and his own ex-best friend.  Castiel would be pissed off if it were anything extravagant, but he wouldn’t understand anything done in subtlety.  It was a fine line one walked when dealing with the quirky bakery owner.  Sam wanted it to be meaningful.  He wanted to show he recognized he held the blame and accepted repercussions and how he was making amends _without_ the fireworks.

And, truly...he missed Castiel.    
  
The two had grown so close when he and Gabriel had been together.  Cas had been another acute loss in his life.

This was like an impossible puzzle…

Sam did, indeed, feel like a creep - because he had to look up the number he’d entered in his phone from Gabriel’s booking info to make sure it was the same number the man had given him on the scribbled note.  Luckily, they matched.  Sam was then left with the question of what would be considered too early to send a message.

Then after a long sip of coffee…he found himself laughing.

No, not just a chuckle or a snort.

Actual full, body-shaking laughter to the point he had to put his goddamn mug down.  

He wasn’t sure if he was finally going insane, or the tickles of hope were making him feel this way, because being with Gabriel, even if only for a night?  It was some overwhelming kind of elation, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since they were together.   _Before_ work had swept him in the undertow.   _Before_ he’d fucked everything up.

Back when he could make Gabriel _happy_ , and Gabriel made _him_ feel like the luckiest man on the planet.    
  
Sam had felt (in fleeting moments) the flickers of it last night.  They could play pretend for just a bit - like the domesticity of taking a shower together.  Of Gabriel actually letting them fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms…

It must have been difficult, but Gabriel let them be…them.

Finally, Sam’s laughter faded into what he knew was a ridiculous, joyous smile.  But he couldn’t wipe it off his face.

He knew Meg would call him out at work, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get anything past her, but one thing Sam was positive on?

Where he was stopping for lunch.

He needed to get ready.  In the uproar of last night, he’d forgotten to set his alarm, but luckily his internal clock still went off at the same time every day.

Distracted as he was by his musings, he knew he really needed to hop on it so he wouldn’t be late.  At least he didn’t need a shower.

Sam downed the rest of the coffee and headed back to the bedroom to pull on one of his suits.  He had things to do and moves to make, the giddiness in his heart spurring him forward into what he hoped turned out to be a great day.

\---------------------

Castiel was at the counter when the door dinged.  It was just before the lunch rush and he looked up to greet, “Welcome to-” but the words died on his lips.

Because, for the first time in over half a year, Sam Winchester was walking towards him and that sight alone made his hackles raise and his brow furrow.  But he knew he _had_ to be professional, the dining room was half-full and there was no way he could ask the man to leave or cause a scene.

So Castiel waited patiently as he approached the counter with a smile.  Which seemed…mildly out of place, considering the circumstances.

“Hey, Cas.  How’ve you been?” Sam asked cheerfully, pulling out his wallet in advance.

There was something different about the man in front of him, and he squinted his eyes trying to deduce just what it was.  He carefully responded, “I took a small hiatus, as you know.  But since being back, business is well.”

“I didn’t ask about business, I asked about you,” Sam’s eyes were imploring.  “And I’m really sorry.  I know that was my fault, and if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just say the words.  I’m trying to come up with something, but if you can think of _anything_ at all, that’d make my life easier.”

“Why are you so jovial?  None of our interactions have warranted it.”

“Wow.  Right to the point,” he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.  “Just, uh, things are looking better, I guess.  And I want to make things up to you, too.  Our friendship meant a lot.  I get why we aren’t on the best terms, really, I do.  And I know the incident was my fault.  I want to make amends, Cas.”

Castiel had no idea where to go with this, so he took into consideration Sam’s open wallet and asked, “Will you be ordering anything?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam had already been half-expecting to be blown off.  After all, Cas was never good at confrontation, and even though this wasn’t one, Sam could see how the baker viewed it as such.  “Two dozen assorted muffins.  I’m gonna bring them back to the firm with me.”

“All right.”

Castiel turned his back as quickly as he could and pulled out two of the folded boxes and went to work filling the first, then repeated with a second.  Once they were both on the counter, he rung up the number and before he could repeat it aloud, Sam had extended the money with a, “Keep the change.”

He had a feeling Cas didn’t want to talk to him, so he went ahead and took the boxes.  But before he could turn and head back to his car, he was stopped by a hesitant, “Wait-”

Sam looked over his shoulder with hope in his eyes as Castiel clenched his fists against the counter and asked, “You said…'things are looking better?'  Do you mean that?”

Walking back over, Sam didn't bother hiding the small grin and shrugged.  “I think so.  I mean, fuck, I really, _really_ hope so.  If I’m reading things right.  And…we keep moving in the direction we’re going.  I sure as hell am not gonna give ’im any reason to backtrack, you have my word.  I’m determined to get past this.  Which is…” he prayed the sincerity and honesty read as much as he meant it in his eyes, “kind of why I wanna make things right with you, too.”

Castiel tilted his head as he considered the man in front of him with scrutiny.  The kind that would have broken a lesser man’s resolve, but Sam was immune to it by now.  Plus, he had such strong emotions backing him, he wouldn’t buckle.  There was no way.

“All right.”

Sam was shocked by the simple answer and repeated, “All right?”

“If you’re getting past this, as you’re claiming, those are all the amends I need.”  Cas shrugged and nodded just past his shoulder, “I believe I have other customers to help.  Have a good day, Sam.”

With an eager nod and a blooming smile, Sam rearranged the boxes and pulled out his keys, “O-okay.  Have a great day, Cas!  Hope you don’t mind seeing more of me.”

With a soft smile of his own, Cas admitted, “I hope I do.”

He watched Sam scramble out of the door with mild amusement.

This was news to him.  Very encouraging news, to say the least.  He wouldn’t bring it up with Gabriel, because he did not wish to hinder any results by giving his cousin undue pressure.  But it may be something he brought up with Dean.  

For some reason, Castiel felt optimistic with even the prospect of Sam’s betterment (he’d heard that rumor floating around) and even though he’d never admit it, he thought the two were better together than apart.  He did not condone Sam’s behavior and what he’d done.  Forgiveness was something that Gabriel would have to deliver, but Castiel wished for the best.

For both their sakes.

\-----------------  

Four days later, Gabriel was staring at his phone crabbily because…if Sam had been _so_ goddamn _persistent_ and he’d _willingly_ given the kid his number, why the fuck hadn’t he texted him yet?

Was he giving him space?  Was he waiting for Gabriel to make the next move?  Whatever it was, it was friggin _annoying_.

Because ever since their night together, Gabriel had Sam on the brain and it was getting to be ridiculous.

Who knew that angry sex would spawn all these nasty feelings?

Well, the angry part of the sex had only last for _half_ the duration of the fucking.  Then, it had turned into a completely different animal.  And it had remained... _different_ for the rest of the night.  Even into the morning.

Gabriel had been torn when he woke up whether or not to leave a note, but his sappy side had won out.  He hadn’t wanted Sam to have a massive freak-out and hurt heart, or whatever, but it didn’t look like it made a lick of difference, because he didn’t use the number he’d left for him in the first place.

So what was the point?

Was there one?

Now Gabriel was just frustrated and (dare he say) a little rejected about this turn of events.

He would have thought Sam would’ve jumped at being granted permission to communicate.  And here it was.

Four days later.

Radio-silent.

So, yeah, maybe Gabriel was sitting there after a long work day, pouting and giving his phone the death-stare.  Mostly, because now _he_ was tempted and contemplating being the one to break the ice.  Which, in the past, wouldn’t have been the problem.

Had this been when they were dating, he wouldn’t have thought twice.  Hell, he would have rung him up and teasingly demanded phone sex or something.  But now everything was so touchy.  It was new, but in a totally different way, and he wasn’t about to put himself out there again because he _wasn’t_ a masochist.

Gabriel was determined to see what Sam would do, how he would play this and if things went smoothly?

Well, _maybe_ a part of Gabriel had already begun to concede defeat (was it really defeat if it felt so _satisfying_?).

_Maybe_ he was ready to open up, because facts were facts.

He had a spy on the inside: Meg was watching Sam’s every move.  Even though she’d bitched and moaned about having to hide in his office until just after midnight, being trapped there until the custodians finished with the level - which he _personally_ laughed his ass off about.

Meg was not quite so amused.

But she understood how much this meant to him, especially once he offered up the juicy gossip, and she was in his corner.  He knew she would keep a close eye on him, and right now?  Everything was coming up roses.

Except for this, you know, _not talking_ thing.

“What the fuck!”  Gabriel groaned and tossed his phone onto the couch, deciding to channel surf rather than allow the device to piss him off any longer.

Now, he could glower at the TV instead.

\-------------------

_Sam 7:01am_  
_Lunch at the bakery?_

_Gabriel 8:35am_  
_Perhaps_  
_What time_

_Sam 8:39am_  
_Around noon?_

_Gabriel 8:43am_  
_Around noon_  
_At noon_  
_Or afternoon_  
_Need specifics Sasquatch_

_Sam 8:46am_  
_lol at noon :)_

_Gabriel 8:49am_  
_Guess I could swing that_

_Sam 8:51am_  
_Great!  I’ll see you then_


	5. Top-Secret Information

Even though he was apprehensive, Gabriel got to the bakery early just to talk to Cas and fill him in on that was going down.  In case he needed reinforcements.  Well, it wasn’t like Cas was a bouncer, or anything, but he was the owner of the fine establishment and could easily kick Sam to the curb.

He had mixed feelings walking up to the building he’d all but demolished _because_ of Sam.  To _meet_ Sam.  He couldn’t help but view the place through rose-colored glasses turned bitter.  Why had Sam decided to meet here?

Was it a show for his cousin?  Or something else?

Gabriel had time, fifteen minutes, to be exact, to chat with Cas before the odd meet-cute.

Except, when he walked through the doors it looked like it wasn’t only him who’d had the idea to be early.  Gabriel's plan went to shit when he caught sight of Sam already seated at a table and it was a picture taken straight out of his memory bank.

He was sipping at a tall cup of coffee with a cheese danish sitting in front of him, and across the table sat another drink (which Gabriel knew to be his usual white chocolate mocha) with a giant double-chocolate muffin ready and waiting on a napkin.  Just chilling at the table.

_Their table_.

The one that all but had a “reserved” sign tacked on it during the lunch rush, and sometimes for late night study sessions.  This was exactly where the pair would _always_ meet.

It made Gabriel’s heart beat faster when Sam saw him and waved him over, and he had to mentally kick himself to move his feet.

Cas was watching him with a knowing and supportive stare as he crossed the bakery, hands dug deep in his pockets.  The closer he got, the wider Sam’s smile became and when he finally flopped down in the familiar chair he tried to appear like he _wasn’t_ having PTSD.

“Well, great minds think alike,” Gabriel commented, clucking his tongue.  “You get a long lunch hour?”

“We can take our lunches whenever we want.  Just have to clock out,” Sam looked a little nervous when he gestured in front of him, “I hope your tastes haven’t changed.”

He couldn’t help it, Sam just left himself wide open.  “Nah, still like ‘em tall, dark and nerdy,” and winked while he grabbed the drink and took a sip.  “The mocha’s swell, too.”

With a chuckle, the tension seemed to fade from his body, coupled with a sigh.  “Okay, that’s good.  This is good.”

“So, lunch date is your first move when you get my digits?”  Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder aloud.

Sam countered with, “Would you rather it be a booty call?”

“Don’t know what ‘I’d rather.’  But I honestly wasn’t expecting this.”  He began picking at his muffin, “Is this you wanting to redeem me from my crimes?  I’ve already made my peace with Cas.  It’s kind of embarrassing, ya know.”

“No, oh God, _no_ , that’s _not_ what I wanted,” Sam sputtered out quickly, “I, uh, wanted to meet here because it was familiar.  And comfortable.  Did I…” he paused and looked sheepish, “Did I already fuck up?”

“Nah,” Gabriel managed to get out through a mouthful of food, pleased to get that kind of reaction.  “Yer fine.  So, what’s up?  Is this a date?”

“If you want it to be.”  He sounded hopeful and it was all kinds of adorable.  “Or we could just catch up.  I mean, it’s been a while.  And we haven’t done much talking.”

“Heh, that’s true.”  With a roll of his shoulder, he glanced up to really take in Sam’s appearance and said the first thing that came to mind.  “You look good.  Better, I mean.  I didn’t want to say it, but when I saw you in jail?  You kinda looked like shit.”

That pulled an outright laugh from Sam’s chest, and he readily admitted, “I know.  I wasn’t in the best place then, but…I’m a work in progress.”

“The other night, on the other hand,” Gabriel leaned forward and wiggled his eyebrows, “ _That_ work in progress?  Pretty fantastic.  Makes me eager for those end result.”

Instead of appearing embarrassed, Sam rose to the challenge and countered, “Oh yeah?  Should I wait to let you know when I’ve achieved my goal?  Or when I’ve hit certain landmarks?”

“Either works for me, really.”  Gabriel’s smirk wasn't leaving anytime soon.  “I could be your check-in coach.  Let you know how you’re doing.  If you’re slacking, need to up your game and whatnot.”

“You’re impossible.”  He was rolling his eyes, but there was nothing but affection in his tone and he jammed a forkful of danish in his mouth.

Because that was the kind of man Sam was.  The kind who ate a pastry with knife and fork instead of his hands.  It was something that Gabriel always found endearing about him.  And the fact he knew he was drinking strong coffee with just a splash of creamer.  Hell, he could write a book about the person in front of him, and all the things he had to say…thinking about it, he’d more or less be waxing poetic.

God, he missed him.  All his little quirks, all those lovely flaws, everything that made Sam, Sam.

And, fuck, he loved him.

“Gabriel?”  Sam’s face had concern written all over it, and for the life of him, Gabriel didn’t know why.

“Uh, what?”  He blinked rapidly, wondering just how much time had elapsed during his zone-out, because Sam was staring at him like he was dying, or some shit.

“Are you alright?”  He squeezed down on Gabriel’s hand, and it made his eyes dart down to realize that Sam had a hold on his hand in the first place.

When did _that_ happen?

“Yeah, sorry.  Just…” he was captivated by the sight, and when Sam made a move to apologize and retract, Gabriel was faster.

He turned his wrist and stealthily intertwined their fingers, gripping Sam’s hand in return and admitted in a hushed voice, “That’s better.”

Gabriel slowly looked back up, and Sam was staring at him in a stunned silence.

His first instinct was to laugh at him, but Gabriel had learned (over time) that his gut reactions were usually the wrong ones, so he went with his second:

“I was just thinking.  About you.  Guess I went somewhere else, for a second.  But you know what?”  Gabriel prompted the dumbfounded man in front of him.

“What?”  Although it was obligatory on Sam’s part, he was curious and attentive, especially when Gabriel’s thumb started stroking the back of his hand softly.

“Where I went was a good place.  It was all good things, good memories, good feelings.  I wasn’t…bitter or pissed off anymore.  And I never thought I’d get past that, you know?”  Gabriel chuckled then drew in a deep breath, “Damn, that was a great fucking feeling.”

\----------------------

For the first two weeks, Castiel kept a close eye.

Dean told him over the phone, by Castiel’s accounts and attention to detail, that he was “hovering like a goddamn vulture,” but that wasn’t true.  He was simply... _concerned_ for his cousin, and more importantly; his cousin’s heart.

But after a while, he found he didn’t need to hover anymore.

In fact, he barely took notice of the pair’s coming and goings, even though it was nearly every day that they met.  The transition happened so naturally that Castiel didn’t even realize it happened at all.  Obviously, that was a good thing.

In fact, it was something he’d never expected to happen again, not after all the fallout from the break-up had settled.

Castiel, at least, wouldn’t take it for granted.

Once he realized that everything was so natural, so _normal_ again, he deliberately chose to spend one day watching them, observing their interactions.  Subtly, of course.  And what he found as he observed them?

It was like they’d never broke up.

Warmth spread into Cas’ heart and he tried his hardest not to openly gawk, but…when did it happen?  Was it through a series of events, or was there a moment when they realized that they could do it?  They _could_ try again?  Or…were they being idiots and hadn’t yet realized that grand truth?

That very night, after Cas closed up shop, he decided they were well enough along rebuilding that the pair could no longer be compromised or thrown off track.  Nothing Castiel said or did could ruin the easy relationship they’d found, and so he dialed his cousin’s number when he arrived home.

Gabriel was cheerful when he answered, “Yo!  Cas!  What’s up!  Can’t get enough of me?”

“Heh,” Cas tried to use discretion, but it wasn’t his strongest suit.  “While I may see you enough, we’ve hardly had time to speak.”

“Details, right?”  He knew that was Gabriel’s nervous laugh.  He tried to cover it up with, “So whatcha wanna chat about.”

“You and Sam.”  ...Well, he _tried_.

“And, right to point.  What?  Lunch can’t be enough?  There’s gotta be something else going on?”  Gabriel was strangely avoiding the topic, which raised red flags in Cas’ mind.

“Is that true?”  He needed clarity, “Has it only been lunch?”

“Well…” he stalled and coughed a few times.  “At first, I cornered him randomly and we hooked up.  But, yeah, since then it’s...just been lunch.  But we’ve patched things up.  I guess we’re just taking it one day at a time.  We talk a lot.  Text even more.  But…”

“You _only_ see one another for _lunch_.”  Cas summarized, honestly a bit shocked, then thoughtfully inquired, “Is it out of respect?  Or is it-?”

“What?” Gabriel snipped.  “Because I can’t keep my hot little hands off him?  Because I _can’t_.  And we’re trying to take things slow.  So if it was anything _but_ lunch, yeah, we’d end up doing the horizontal mambo, you happy?!”

“Are _you_ happy?”  He quipped right away, “Because you two seem _very_ happy.  So I fail to see how this is an issue.  I know you, Gabriel.  And I don’t understand why you would deprive yourself, since this could be an issue of resentment in the future.  Was this your choice or his?”

“Wow…” it was drawn out.  “You’re encouraging me to get laid, Cassie?”

With a groan, he quickly got them back on track with, “Gabriel.  Whose idea was it?”

“I don’t know, mutual…?  Okay, fine.  It was me.  I didn’t want to fall back in love with his body, or whatever!”  He was practically whining, and Castiel loathed when he became childish like this.

“Well, you’re clearly in love with all of him.  The two of you have been seeing one another for your ‘dates’ for _months_.  Your point is moot.”  There was a finality in his tone.

One that left Gabriel momentarily speechless.

Then, his cousin asked, almost shyly, “Really?”

“Yes, really.  All my doubts have been cleared, if you’re curious.  As, I assume, yours have been as well.  You’re making an issue out of nothing.”  Cas tried to soften his tone, because he knew at this point, Gabriel was simply trying to put off the final step before committing again.

He was still afraid, but Castiel knew that his fear was unwarranted.

As a third party, Cas had first-hand information from both Meg and Dean who knew everything there was to know about how Sam was doing these days.  From his day-to-day life, to his personal life.  The information was readily gossiped about to Castiel’s listening ear, and more than that?  Something that, perhaps, trumped it all?

Cas had _the_ front row seat.  He saw them together, day in and day out.  And it was glaringly obvious.  If Gabriel needed reassurance?  Castiel had it, in spades.

“Gabriel,” he tried a different approach, “he’s gone above and beyond for you.  He’s become a better man for you.  And more than anything, he’s never stopped loving you.  I know his feelings are returned and I’m not quite sure why, at this point, you’re still holding back other than your own unfounded fear.  You’ve both let each other back in, why not commit to it, wholly?”

“Got the seal of approval, huh?”  He asked wryly, just to fill the air.

“Clearly.”  Cas tried to keep any negativity from his tone.  “I’ll leave you with those thoughts.  And I’m going to hope you act on them.”

“Hey, thanks, Cas.”  Gabriel sounded honestly grateful in a moment of rawness that seemed foreign, but it wasn’t something that was new.  If there was one person who he would open up to, it was his cousin.

And that was something Castiel was equally grateful for.

“Of course.  You’re quite welcome.  Good night, Gabriel.”  Cas hung up the phone before the other man could do anything challenging.

He felt they ended it on a good note, and it would be just like Gabriel to throw a wrench in the system.  Yet, Cas was extremely happy he’d called, because _someone_ needed to tell him to get his head out of his ass.  If he’d known exactly what was (or rather, was _not_ ) going on, he would have told him sooner.

God, Gabriel was so stubborn sometimes it hurt.

\--------------------

As the time continued to elapse since sending his last message, Sam’s insecurity began to grow by the minute.  It was stupid, really.  He knew it was.  There were so many reasons why Gabriel wouldn’t necessarily respond right away, but that didn’t mean that Sam had to like it.

After all, it was a Friday night, Gabriel could have made plans to go out.  He wasn’t exactly short of drinking buddies, not that that would hold him back if he was in a party mood.  _But_ he would have mentioned something, maybe even invited him along, and not left Sam hanging.   _Or_ he would have started drunk texting him the second a drop of liquor touched his tongue.

It was getting late, and he could have fallen asleep…but they _never_ went to bed without a goodnight text to one another.

Maybe he was in the shower, and Sam was worried about nothing.  Gabriel may respond in the blink of an eye.

Whatever the reason, Sam didn’t have to like it…

Still, when he glanced at the time, it had been… _shit._  It was coming up on an hour.  Nothing about this was normal despite how much Sam tried to justify it, and now he was worried.  The one thing that made him a little apprehensive was the fact that the topic (or rather the _nature_ ) of the texts had been a little…raunchy.

Which wasn’t anything new.  Things had been building their way back up naturally and this was just a simple part of their relationship.  They’d _always_ been sexual.  But that was why Sam was double-nervous about the lag in response.   Did Gabriel think they had moved too fast?  Had Sam said something too bold?  No, he couldn’t have, they’d sexted _many_ times before, but…maybe this time, he _had_ blown it…fuck.

He blew a raspberry threw his lips and sunk back into the cushions of the couch.

Sam had grown entirely too comfortable.  Too happy.  And something as little, as friggin  _minuscule_ as this left him disgruntled and bummed out.  It was pathetic.  It was just…everything was perfect.  Or, as perfect as things could be at that moment.

It was like nothing had changed, like before they’d started living together, and Sam couldn’t even describe with words how elated it made him.  Now, the smallest upset did _this_?  God, what would happen if something major was to jam a wedge between them?  He couldn’t even _think_ about the repercussions…

He couldn’t help that what they had was like a dream come true.  He never wanted to wake up.  Things were amazing, but he’d been the one to drop the ball, he’d never let himself do it again, which was why he was being _stupid_ and freaking out over-

Sam startled when he heard a key unlocking the front door and flew up to lean forward on the couch, because this could only mean one this-

After the door slammed shut and the re-locking could be heard, Gabriel strutted right into the living room and announced, “Since barging in on each other is kind of our thing, I decided to keep with tradition.”  Then, he hopped down next to Sam on the couch and asked, “What are we watching?”

Sam had to close his dropped jaw, and stammered out the words, “Uh, just something on the History Channel-”

“Boring!  C’mon, let’s find a movie.  Something that _won’t_ make me fall asleep in five minutes, flat,” he rolled his eyes, and smirked widely at Sam.  “Man, I really got you.  Lookin’ like you saw a ghost.  At least you’re not comin’ at me with a baseball bat this time, kiddo.”

“Well, um, we just- _uh_ , you know.”  Maybe he didn’t know, he was trying to prompt Gabriel, but he knew he was grinning like an idiot.  “What I _mean is,_ I’m glad you’re here.”

“Ditto.  Now, c’mon!”  Gabriel didn’t want to wait anymore, apparently.  He helped himself by reaching over Sam and grabbing the remote.

In the next second, he’d kicked his legs up onto the coffee table (something that Sam used to reprimand him about, but who was he to yell at Gabriel when he was overjoyed that the man was here in the first place?) and began scrolling through the channels.  He’d make grunts, “meh”s, “mm,”s and “nahh,”s as he clicked through, and then snapped his head around the next second.

“You got rid of all the good ones, didn’t you?!”  He accused Sam, once he realized that all his favorite TV packages were gone.  “You have _zero_ taste!”

“It…cut down on the bill?”  Sam offered pathetically.

The truth wasn’t that he never really watched them, but they always reminded him of Gabriel.  _That_ was the real reason he went out of his way to call the cable company and discontinue their subscription to certain stations.  If Gabriel thought about it, he’d probably figure it out, but right now he was on a mission for something, _anything_ , to settle on.

It wasn’t like Sam sat in front of the TV all that much.  It was actually something that was decently new to him.  After all, his previous routine was getting home, eating something, then paperwork.  Lots of paperwork.  Now, he had certain shows he’d catch on Discovery, sometimes Animal Planet or the basics, like NBC, CNN or CBS.  Sometimes, even though he’d never utter a word, there were shows on the CW he’d find himself intrigued by and got sucked into (the brothers from Paranormal were oddly reminiscent of himself and Dean, actually).  But that happened to be something he’d take to his grave.

“Well, there’s always Doctor Sexy,” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, tossed the remote to his side and crossed his arms behind his head.  “We can stick to the classics.”

“I should have known.”  Sam tried to complain and sound put out, but…the fact that Gabriel was here made him so damn happy, he couldn’t hide it.

While they were both staring off at the television, neither of them were really watching.  They were both deep in thought, about how they’d made it here, together.  Sam found himself wondering what prompted Gabriel’s sudden appearance.  If this had been only a handful of months ago, Sam would have shied away from bringing it up because it didn’t want to scare him off.

But this wasn’t months ago.  They’d been seeing each other, talking, texting, a constant fixture in one another's lives for months.

So he leaned on his side, faced Gabriel, asked curiously and without anxiety, “Why are you here?”

Barely batting an eye and casting him a half-second glance, he shrugged and stated, “Because I wanted to be here.”

“Just…all of a sudden?”  Sam didn’t feel bad about pushing, “Out of the blue?  You just wanted to be here tonight?  But not before now?”

“You and your damn questions.”

Gabriel matched Sam’s posture and turned, since this was _obviously_ leading to a conversation and he didn’t want to hurt his neck, craning it to the side to talk to Sam.  Because, these days, Sam was fucking finally into talking openly again.  He pulled his knees to drop onto the couch cushions, with his elbow on the backrest and his palm against his cheek.

“Yeah.  I wanted to be here tonight, so I showed up,” Gabriel confirmed.  “You should know better than anyone.  When I wanna do something, I do it.  It just sounded like something that struck my fancy.  Is there a problem, princess?”

“Nope,” Sam scooted a little closer and reached out to grab Gabriel’s free hand.  “I just…thought you must have had some reservations or something.  Some reason in particular, or you would have been over ages ago.”

Gabriel didn't hesitate to link their fingers and nonchalantly say, “There may or may not have been a conversation with my cousin.”

Out of anything Gabriel could have used as explanation, that was not it.

“Uh.  I don’t get it,” Sam admitted, his brows scrunched in confusion.

“Eh, it was one of those ‘get your head out of yer ass’ conversations.  Some shit about my pride.  Stupid crap like that, you know the drill,” he winked and sighed heavily, as he shook his head.

“But…you’ve gotten over your pride.  At least, I thought so,” his voice trailed off, because while it was true…he had an inkling as to what Cas was getting at.

Because it was something that Sam had wanted to bring up for a damn long time, but didn’t feel like it was his place to do so.  At least, it looked like he had finally won Castiel over and had him in his corner.  That was a damn good feeling.

“You and I both know what’s what, kid, don't play dumb,” Gabriel raised a patronizing eyebrow.  “Which is why I came to see you tonight.  Crossing a bridge, and whatnot.”

A small smile played at the corners of Sam’s cheeks when he nodded and teased, “Last thing I wanna fuck with is your pride, Gabe.  It’s a monster all by itself.  And I’m not going to say I’m proud of you, because you could just as easily turn around and burn that bridge, but I miss having you here.  It’s not the same without you.”

With a huff and a smirk, Gabriel stated, “I know,” just before he tackled Sam to the couch and kissed him breathless.

It was sweet and tender, Sam stretched out with Gabriel draped over him.  He dragged Gabriel closer, feeling his familiar weight melt into him.  When Gabriel had lunged, on reflex he’d cradled the back of Sam’s head, tangling and carding his fingers through Sam’s long locks as he worked to lick his way into his mouth.  Sam hummed, pressing back up, his own hands slowly roaming.

Everything started off soft and affectionate, but Sam couldn’t help it when he felt Gabriel’s shirt riding up.  He needed to feel _more_ of his skin.  His hand slipped underneath and roamed the expanse of his back, before Sam said to hell with it, and pulled Gabriel’s shirt completely off.

Which had the man raising an interested brow, and commenting, “Aren’t you feeling saucy, Sammy?”

“Mm,” he hummed into the kiss and sat up, bringing both of their weights with him, then almost-whined, “there’s been so much goddamn teasing, I’ve been going _crazy_.  It’s been too long, Gabe.  You know it has.  I want you so bad.”

“I _do_ know-” Gabriel readily admitted as he ground down on Sam’s erection, ripping moan from his throat.  He sucked at Sam‘s neck and mischievously whispered, “God, I missed those noises you make.”

Apparently, Sam was already finished with the couch make-out.  He used their position to his advantage, looping both his arms under Gabriel’s rear and lifted him up while he stood.  Gabriel began to object loudly (which Sam muffled with his hot mouth) as Sam forcefully moved them up the stairs to the bedroom.

“You fuckin’ jerk, I _hate it_ when you do that!”  He all but growled when Sam dropped him on the mattress, his glare being met with a self-satisfied grin.

He took great joy in seeing Gabriel caught off guard, and after he tugged his own shirt off and kicked off his pants away, he descended upon the disgruntled man and asked, “But do you hate it when I do this?”

Gabriel gasped as Sam’s hand dove down the front of his jeans, cupping his cock and stroking him.  He barely had the breath to say, “D-don’t hate _that_ as much-”

“Didn’t think so.”

Sam climbed on the bed and took his time removing the rest of his (hopefully) boyfriend’s clothing.  God, he _prayed_ they were back together, because all the signs were pointing towards yes.  He’d do anything, he was _trying_ to do _everything_ to win him back and right now worshiping Gabriel’s naked body with his mouth wasn’t just for him.  It was for Sam too.

Because, fuck, he’d missed every inch of him.

“Lose the boxers,” Gabriel ordered while Sam was sucking a mark into his neck, then lustfully added, “dick pics and FaceTime can’t do it justice.”

A chuckle rumbled in Sam’s throat when he sat back to toy with the elastic edge of his underwear.  “You know, that was another reason I didn’t get why you wouldn’t come over.  After all the sexting and sending pictures?  Dammit, I can’t _count_ how many times I jerked off to those.”

Licking his lips and waiting for Sam to get on with it, Gabriel admitted, “Yeah, I got one helluva wrist workout myself.  Wanted to be here.  Just never knew the right time.  So c'mon, big boy, let’s make it happen.”

With a flash of a bitchface, Sam finally tossed aside the last article of clothing, letting his cock bob free.

Gabriel moved fast, like he’d been lying in wait, and knocked Sam flailing backwards on the bed.  He used his weight to pin him down by the hips and made deliberate eye contact when he said, “Couldn’t stop thinking about tasting you either.  You didn’t let me get a chance last time.”

He took quite a bit of joy as Sam’s eyes widened and a visible shiver ran down his spine when Gabriel grabbed the base of his cock.  He flattened his tongue and lapped up the entire length one time, before licking and sucking eagerly at the precum.  Sam’s whimper spurred him on as he flicked his tongue across the slit before wrapping his lips around the thick head.

He’d always loved giving Sam blowjobs, maybe it had to do with his oral fixation, or maybe it had to do with how boldly the younger man responded.  Because by the time Gabriel had coated him in saliva and was bobbing up and down, Sam’s wanton moans were filling the room and he could barely keep himself from thrusting into the amazing suction of his mouth.

Soon, fingers wrapped in Gabriel’s hair, but instead of hauling him downward onto his cock, they were tugging him away.

So he pulled off with a pop and took note of how thoroughly debauched Sam was already.

And, holy hell, was it gorgeous.

Sam offered, in a pathetically feeble voice, “Too good, it’s too good, Gabe,” and shook his head with a grunt.  He looked embarrassed and a blush stained his cheeks when he admitted, “I told you, it’s been too long, I-”

“Oh, gotcha,” he tried to keep any teasing out of his voice and instead kissed back up the expanse of Sam’s body until he reached his mouth.  He rolled their hips together, the friction of their bodies sending a shock wave of pleasure through his own.  Gabriel admitted apologetically, “I’m sorry.  Not for being awesome, but sorry I basically threw you in a nunnery.”

“Jesus, I’ve had you remain celibate _how long_?“  Gabriel continued the synced up rhythm of their hips and nibbled at Sam’s earlobe, voice husky, “How ‘bout I make it up to you.”

When the bottle of lube was placed in Sam’s hand, it startled him in a few different ways.  One, he wasn’t sure how the hell Gabriel had managed to grab it without him knowing, but then again, the way he was grinding down on him had Sam extremely distracted.  And two?  Sam’s cock was throbbing at what Gabriel was implying, and he had to pull away and look him in the eyes to be sure.

There was nothing but need and desire in Gabriel’s stare as he watched Sam, along with amusement and the hint of a taunt, “You seemed pretty obsessed with the idea when we were texting.  All the things you said you wanted to do to me…”  He ducked forward and caught Sam’s bottom lip with his teeth, sucking and eliciting a sound of pure hunger from the other man.

“God, _yes_ ,” Sam gushed and now all he felt in his veins was a passionate thrill.  When he popped the cap and squeezed the liquid onto his fingers, he continued in a lust-wrecked voice, “Since you want to make it up to me, and everything...”  He wrapped an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and rolled them both over so Sam was on top.

“Mm, I love it when you take charge, Sammy.”  It could have been a taunt, but there was so much arousal written on Gabriel’s face as he spread his legs, Sam didn’t hesitate to kiss the words from his lips when he slowly pushed a slick finger inside him.

Gabriel responded with a clash of tongue and teeth, egging him on in-between kisses and demanding, “More,” so Sam gave it to him in the form of a second finger.    
  
He wouldn’t be provoked further than that though, he’d take his time.  He wasn’t going to hurt the man he loved just because he was a mouthy bastard who never knew when to stop pushing his luck.  Besides, Sam knew how to make it good.

Sam worked at stretching his tight rim with a gentle scissoring motion, just feeling the heat of Gabriel’s body around his fingers, a prelude that made him shake with anticipation.  Once Gabriel was rocking his body against Sam’s fingers, he knew it was safe for a third.  

The man moaned against the stretch and wrenched Sam’s head to the side, sucking a bruise along the column of his throat and brazenly stating, “Need that to be your cock, Sammy, hurry it up!”

He shouldn’t have expected anything less.

But the words shot directly south, and Sam began finger fucking Gabriel with much more intent, sliding in and out of his hole, three fingers deep.  Gabriel mewled and arched against him suddenly, nails raking down Sam’s back, and he knew he’d brushed his sweet spot.

Which also meant Gabriel was about to get _a lot_ more pushy.

So Sam needed to hurry this up, even though he didn’t want to make it fast and furious, he wanted to make it _perfect_ , but-

“C’mon,” he groaned and rolled his hips in perfect time with Sam’s hand, reaching out for the bottle before Sam could even get it.    
  
Not only that, he went ahead and took the initiative to stroke and cover Sam’s cock with lube so he didn’t miss a beat.  Yet, Gabriel still had a clear enough head to haughtily ask, “How do you want me?” wiggling his eyebrows as he physically tugged Sam’s hand free to make room for his dick.

Sam really should have expected this, it was par for course with Gabriel.  But now he wanted to regain control of the situation and said unruly boyfriend.  Not to be outdone, Sam pitched forward and stole a kiss before stating, “Just like this.  I told you, I want to watch you under me.  Want to watch every single second of you being stretched full of my cock.  Especially when you cum on it.”

“ _That’s_ what I want to hear.” Gabriel grinned impishly and spread his legs obscenely wide.  “Do your worst.  Don’t hold back.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to if I tried,” Sam’s voice darkened as he lined up, and the head of his cock began pushing against Gabriel’s still-tight rim.  He watched the man’s face slowly contort caught up in a grimace of pleasure as he slid in, inch by glorious inch.  Sam’s blood was on fire with yearning as dipped forward and boxed Gabriel in with his forearms, almost challenging, “Just hope you can handle it.”  He knew Gabe loved a thrown gauntlet.

When their bodies were finally one, Gabriel was panting with his eyes squeezed shut, drawing in air through his teeth and taking in the moment.

Sam…couldn’t stop smiling.  No matter how amazing it felt, no matter how whole and how much pleasure was overwhelming him, he was so goddamn happy.  More than anything.  He raised his hand and cupped Gabriel’s face, holding him there until those golden eyes opened and locked with his own.  He needed to make sure he was all right, that it was good for him, that-

“Y-you gonna move?”  Gabriel stared him down, ducked his head to the side and caught Sam’s thumb in his mouth.  “How else do I prove I can handle it, kiddo?”

“Heh,” Sam began with a slow roll that had the other keening, “Fuck, I love you.”

A flash of something appeared on Gabriel’s face, followed by a shark-like grin and a, “How ’bout you prove _that_ , too?”

“I will.”

It was the only warning Gabriel received before Sam began thrusting into his hot, tight body in earnest.  He stayed hunched over while his hips did the work, because he _never_ wanted to stop kissing Gabriel.  Whether it was the hinge of his jaw, the length of his neck, or stealing the breath from his lung when he descended on his lips.  His mouth wouldn’t let him go a second without gluing itself to Gabriel’s skin.  He was just too tempting and amazing to go without tasting for even an instant.

The moment Sam saw him clutching at the blankets, moans being punched from his lungs with every sharp pump of Sam’s hips, he grabbed Gabriel’s arms and guided them to wrap around his body.  Sam wanted to feel them connect _everywhere_ possible.

Once Gabriel got the message?  He was all sunken nails and clenching thighs, while he dug his heels into Sam’s back, dragging him deeper and deeper with every thrust.

Gabriel repeated that same beautiful noise when Sam had been fingering him, and he knew he’d found his prostate.  Sam was surprised he hadn’t sooner, but in a way, they were relearning one another’s bodies and it was incredible.  Sam’s desire and hunger for his own orgasm was only second to seeing Gabriel come undone underneath him.

So he kicked it up a notch, brutally slamming against that bundle of nerves, and thrived listening to the sounds of Gabriel shouting out his name.

No sooner than that, he felt a hot splash against his stomach and Gabriel was grabbing his face and kissing the life out of him.

It wasn’t the squeezing grip around his cock that had Sam cumming, it was the words, “Love you, Sam,” being whispered in his ear.

Those words spoken through Gabriel’s hoarse, heady voice had Sam spilling into him and clutching at him with a desperation and urgent desire to _never_ let him go.  God, the orgasm was intense.  It shook through him to his very core, because this wasn’t just about the sex; it was about the _meaning_ behind it.

There was _nothing_ that could make that moment any better.

Somewhere in the rush of everything, they ended up lazily making out side by side, coated in sweat and more, but Gabriel was brushing Sam’s hair from his face and smiling against Sam’s lips.  It was this flawless little picture, a cut-out in time, that both would remember possibly forever.

Sam couldn’t help it when he asked, complete with goofy grin, “Did I prove it?”

With a snort, Gabriel rolled his eyes and then stretched out.  “Ya proved a lot of things, kiddo.”

“Yeah?”  He chased after the man and pillowed himself up against his chest.  “Dare I ask?  Good or bad?”

“Hmm,” Gabriel paused for dramatic effect, “Good, surprisingly.”

“How good?”  Sam was much bolder, actually back to his bold self these days, as he traced a hickey he’d left low on Gabe’s hipbone and kissed his cheek.

“Hey, that tickles,” he swatted him away with a halfhearted glare.  “Now, you’re being bad.  You suck at this.  And here I was, about to be serious!”

“I can be serious.”  He all but snapped at attention at those words.

“You never threw my stuff out?”  Gabriel asked, and it was an honest question.

“No, none of it.  Hell, some of it I never even boxed up.  I know it’s pathetic, but-”

“No, no, that’s probably for the best.”  There was some kind of fierce, iron-clad determination deep inside Gabriel while he continued with, “We’re working, right?  I mean, we’ve rebuilt what was tore down.  You surprised me.  You really did change when I didn’t think that you were capable of it.  And…we see each other every damn day, basically.”

“And we talk the days we see each other and the days we don’t,” Sam was quick to point out, even though he wasn’t quite sure where this was going.  He was trying to stay positive and hope for the best.

“Yeah.  That too.”  Gabriel took in a huge breath.  “I came tonight for two reasons.  To see if it would work out and if it felt right and…it _did_.”  Then, an even longer pause left Sam on pins and needles as Gabriel tried to work his way to get the damn words out of his goddamn mouth.  “And…even though it’s a house, it’s on a lease.  And my lease is up at the end of the month.  I...think we can try this again.  If you’re game.”

“Holy shit.”  Sam wasn’t sure he’d heard him right, but if he _had_ heard him right he was over the moon.  He rolled on top of Gabriel and demanded, “Are you serious right now?!  Don’t you dare fuck with me!  Not about something like _this_!”

“Woah!  Chill out there, happy puppy!”  Gabriel patted him patronizingly on the head, but then a small grin worked its way onto his features when he pronounced, “Would I be fucking with you if I had a few boxes of my shit already in my trunk?”

As if Sam’s eyes couldn’t have widened anymore, they did.

He was serious.  He was _dead-fucking-serious_ and this was _happening_.

Gabriel surged forward just enough to give Sam a quick peck on the tip of his nose before he shrugged, “Yeah.  I’ve been tinkering with the idea for a hot sec.  Lease is actually up this week….so I’ll need to know if you’ll have me sooner rather than later.”

Sam began to laugh and collapsed back down, pillowing himself onto Gabriel’s chest and squeezing him.  “Yes.  Yes!  I can get out the boxes, we can get you unpacked, move anything else that you need from your place, then-”

“Chill out, kiddo, one thing at a time!”  Gabriel found himself laughing along with Sam and shaking his head.  “How about some more afterglow and a shower?  Start with that?”

“Oh yeah.”  Even though Sam was already glowing, he confirmed, “We can start with that.”  
  
Sam was brimming with happiness, but there was one thing he noticed in Gabriel – he knew the man inside and out and there was _one thing_ that he was leaving out.  No matter how gleeful Sam felt, he wasn’t about to overlook this.  This was their second chance, and in order to do that, their fresh start needed to be just that - one without secrets and both of them committing to it wholeheartedly.  
  
It was almost like Gabriel had something to add, something on the trip of his tongue but...he just _couldn’t_ put the words together.  Even though there was a dopey grin on his face, there was something somber hiding in the shadows.  
  
“Gabe?”  Sam scooted closer until their foreheads were pressed together.  “You have no idea how happy you just made me.  But I know you.  There’s something else.  It’s...something you’re not sure about.  If we’re gonna make this work, you’ve gotta tell me now.  Is it something I’m doing?”  
  
“Oh, Jesus, _no_!”  Gabriel quickly defended and grabbed Sam’s cheek, his face affronted by the suggestion.  Then out of nowhere he inquired cryptically, “I...can you keep a secret?”  His expression was damn near unreadable, but Sam eagerly nodded.    
  
“Caaan,” Gabriel’s voice took a sharp turn for the playful, “you keep it a secret from _Sam Winchester_?”  
  
All right, Sam would play along.  
  
He countered, “Well, he is kind of one of my closest friends.  But for _you_?  I think I can manage.  So what’s this Top-Secret Information?”  
  
“Well...it’s actually one of the reasons it took me so damn long to forgive him.  One of the reasons I was so stubborn.  Sure, pride and ego got in the way, but there’s something _else_ that made it really, _really_ fucking hard,” Gabriel’s voice turned soft and he kissed Sam’s forehead before he pulled away.  
  
With his brows furrowed, Sam wasn’t merely interested, he was _dying_ of curiosity.  Because...if it was more complicated than the initial situation, what the hell was it?  There was _more_?  What _other factor_ was at play that made tonight _the_ night Gabriel had officially decided they were worth it and would work again?  
  
He wrapped his arm around Gabriel’s waist and pulled him just a little closer, tucking their bodies together and tangling their legs while he encouraged, “I’m sure if he knew-”  
  
“Nah.  Can’t know,” Gabriel assured, leaning into Sam’s warmth.  “Cause it might _still_ be a thing.”  When Sam went stark-still, thinking they were in the clear and now there was still something _wrong_ , Gabriel quickly kissed the tip of his nose and coaxed, “ _Good_ thing.  I think,” and while the tension vanished, he was still on pins and needles.  
  
After he cleared his throat, Gabriel explained in an uncharacteristically demure tone, “It was right before shit went downhill.  Literally.  A matter of _weeks_ before the job change.  Then I kept waiting and waiting for things to get better and they never did.  'Cause you know what I’d done?  What no one knows but Cas?”  He pulled away and looked Sam in the eyes.  “I bought I ring.  Yep.  Then it was a matter of timing it right.  I was ready and waiting for the _perfect occasion,_ and that...never came.”  
  
Sam’s hand flew to his mouth to cover up his dropped jaw because…  
  
Holy.  Fucking.  Shit.  
  
Gabriel was going to _propose_ to him.  And they’d been the picture-perfect couple when Gabriel picked it out - Sam would have said yes in a heartbeat, but before they had even gotten a _shot_ at a happy ending…  
  
That was when Sam had “said yes” to that goddamn job _instead_.  He had turned their lives _upside down_ and-  
  
“Hey, _hey_ , Sammy...shh, it’s okay,” Gabriel assured him, his eyes wide with alarm, because he hadn’t been expecting the completely visceral reaction from the younger man.  But before Sam knew it there were actual tears forming in his eyes.  “Kiddo, I just...I wanted to explain _why_ it took me so long.  Why I - _fuck_.  Why I was so affected.  I was ready to spend my life with you.  And…”  
  
While Gabriel was cupping Sam’s face and thumbing the tears away, a small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth as he explained, “I never tossed out the ring, you know.  Found it when I was packing.”  Gabriel then deliberately changed his wording back to their silly game, hoping it would make him happy again, “Which is why I _don’t_ want you to tell Sam.  ‘Cause I think I still kind of wanna spend the rest of my life with him.   _But_ I wanna _surprise him_.  Still gotta wait for that special occasion, and all that jazz.”  
  
In the blink of an eye, the regret twisting in Sam’s gut transformed to bubbling joy.  He wrapped Gabriel tightly in his arms, holding him there like he’d never let go.  Because he didn’t want to.  He never, _ever_ wanted to leave this spot or this moment.  God, Sam wanted it to last forever.  
  
“I love you, so fucking much.  I know I said I won’t tell him...and I’ll _try_ not to.  But I _know_ he feels the same way, he doesn’t need any special occasion.  Anytime is the perfect time.  Holy shit.  You’re _amazing_ , I just…”  
  
“I love you, kid.  And I hope _he does_ feel the same,” Gabriel kissed the tousled hair that was under his chin and held on just as close.  “Hey, the surprise is half of the fun!  Wanna be romantic and shit.  Trust me, he’s worth it.”  With a chuckle, he recollected softly, “They always say you can’t fix someone, unless they want to be fixed.  And, damn, did he prove me wrong.  What’s more is that he never gave up on _me_.  I don’t know what I’d do without him.”  
  
“Now you don’t have to,” Sam replied with ease and a contented sigh.  “You’ll never have to worry about that again.”  With a pause, he had to say, “Since we’re talking about promises, I’ve got one for this guy named Gabriel.  Is that okay?”  
  
“Pretty sure he’d be a’okay with anything,” Gabriel’s voice was soft as he played with Sam’s hair, “You’ve got my word I’ll hold ‘im to it.”  
  
With a pointed look and equally reprimanding words, he ordered, “Make sure he stays out of jail.  That was his _one_ free pass.  Don’t be a jackass.”  
  
With wide eyes, Gabriel blinked and began to giggle, ruffling the man’s hair with his devil-may-care, “Heard that was _Sam’s_ fault, anyway.”  
  
“ _He_ didn’t put those dicks on the building.”  
  
With the waggle of eyebrows, Gabriel lewdly suggested, “I’ve got other places _you_ can put your dick...just sayin’.”  
  
Sam could only snort, because he was so glad to have every piece of his boyfriend back.  Even the inappropriate, smart ass, bullshit he just loved pulling.  Sam hopped off the bed and grabbed Gabriel’s hand, tugging him along, ordering, “Shower,” and Gabriel went with a wide grin into the bathroom with mischief dancing in his eyes.  
  
“Are you giving into my dick comment?  ‘Cause I know _lots_ of fun ways to-”  
  
A bitchface shut Gabriel up, but it melted into a smirk and a shrug once the faucet was turned on.  Sam finally admitted defeat once they stepped underneath the spray of the water and announced, “I guess we’ll just have to find out,” and couldn’t keep away from kissing his boyfriend breathless all over again.  
  
They’d been on an emotional rollercoaster that night, and due to Gabriel’s last confession...Sam _needed_ to make sure that the man was even real.  That this wasn’t some awesome dream.  Dick jokes aside, Sam couldn’t be more grateful everything had finally fallen back into place and they were where they were always meant to be.    
  
Although _Gabriel_ would argue dicks were the _reason_ things fell into place so nicely, thank you very much.  
  
It was all a matter of perspective...but details, right?


End file.
